I live in a shanty in a shanty town.
Tucker reading out on the ice on one of the last days of winter.
Protecting a Mainer's back yard, these ice shanties won't see redeployment for another nine months.
Chirping birds in the morning are bitter sweet. I will miss the reality of Maine winters that shatters the romantic ideals of snowball fights and warming up by the fireplace, but at the same time makes the bonds to seasons more long lasting and genuine. All good things must come to an end, and, like my time in Maine, a new opportunity is here.