As the sweltering heat of summer in the South began to creep in like kudzu already in early June, I looked forward to a well-planned trip to the scenic coast of Maine for cooler temperatures and a little R & R. Luckily for my husband and I some very dear friends offered to share a long weekend with us at their newly purchased home in Port Clyde, Maine - an easy two hour drive north from the Portland airport which is serviced by the always- trusted Delta Airlines directly from Atlanta. The "Over Easys", as we endearingly call our three-couple travel group, would do Maine in true Griswold style I was sure. No matter for I was intent on enjoying every minute of the last summer of the century. We gladly accepted the invitation.

Though the temperature in Maine rivaled that here in Monroe in the few days prior to our departure. We were greeted in Portland after thankfully very uneventful flights by picture perfect weather with temps in the 60's and glorious flowering meadows of poppies, lupine and cosmos. After procuring a suburban to accommodate the six of us comfortably with luggage, cameras, reading material and such, we headed north from Portland on I-95 which veers east into Hwy 1 leading to Rockland. At a sleepy little town called Thomaston we would take Hwy 131 south to Tenants Harbor and finally Port Clyde. As soon as the vehicle cleared the airport someone in the group expressed hunger and soon all eyes were peeled in search of food. How unusual for anyone in this crowd to be hungry! First stop was the Little Lad's Bakery which our "Mainer" friends assured us was the perfect spot for a piece of pie or a cup of coffee. We loaded up also on homemade granola for the weekend's breakfasts and berry pies for late night snacks. Just an hour later we found it necessary to stop again in Thomaston for staples - milk, juice, wine, etc. at a neat little "general" store which seemed a bit more gourmet than it sounded. No one in this crowd would lack for anything where food was concerned. Finally hitting Port Clyde close to sunset, I was awed by the beauty of the landscape we had passed- evergreen islands, harbor villages and mountains on the horizon. The "Maine" home which would be our resting place for the next few fun-filled days is ideally perched on the tip of one of the many finger islands that jut out from the coast and offers exquisite views of crystal blue water and granite headlands. We nestled into our assigned bedrooms, quickly changed from travel clothes to khakis and docksiders ( "L L Beanish" as my friend described the predominant attire of the area) and headed into town. I was ecstatic to be out of a plane, freed from the car and on foot walking through this pleasantly scenic village.

As we reached the harbor we realized that The Dip Net, our chosen spot for dinner, was ready to close. It seems 7:30 is closing time in this the supposed off-season. We prevailed upon the sole proprietor to remain long enough to feed us six starving tourists. She agreed to but admitted that all she could rustle up for us were clams, fried clams and more fried clams. In a panic we realized that the California Cabernet our host had dutifully dragged along deserved better fare so we opted for some of the local brew we found at the general store next door. Our first evening in Maine spent feasting on clams and watching a windjammer dock in the harbor againsta slowly setting sun with temperatures well below 60 was the perfect start to a great weekend.

Awakening to the sounds of the waves crashing on the rocks just below the bedroom window I was eager to begin exploring the surroundings. I dressed quickly in jogging clothes - simply the idea of possibly needing a sweatshirt was a joy. The morning temperature was in the mid- 50's . I was intrigued by the literature I had read on the dozen or so lighthouses in the area. A well-known one is the Marshall Point Lighthouse built in 1832 and made particularly famous by the movie, "Forrest Gump" for it is the point farthest north that he runs to in the movie when he is entreated to "Run, Forrest, Run." This structure is very close to our friend's house; just a lovely four mile jog roundtrip. As I reached the point a majestic sailboat glided serenely by. I will return one day to visit the museum there, which was formerly the keeper's house.

Our second day in Maine was predetermined to be a sightseeing one. After a breakfast of granola and fresh fruit we energetically started out to experience the wonders of Camden, Rockport and Rockland. The first impressive sight one notices leaving Port Clyde heading north to Rockland is a lovely inn at Tenant's Harbor called the East Wind Inn, a restored seaside inn which offers casual comfort in antique filled rooms, fine dining and even a cruise aboard the Friendship sloop. Our friends assured us this was well worth a visit as they had enjoyed a delicious meal there. We hit Camden close to noon; hence first on the agenda for our group naturally was lunch and harborside, of course, for in this area one longs always to see the Atlantic Sea. The Waterfront Restaurant was the chosen spot for delightful dining and breathtaking views of the Camden Harbor, it's pleasure boats, schooners and docks. We feasted on lobster (of course) in every dish - lobster bisque, lobster salad, lobster rolls. I was certain we would end the meal with lobster ice cream or pie, but no such luck. A highlight of the meal was the weather - a perfect 60-degree temperature prevailed for our outdoor pleasure.

The shops of Camden Harbor are a real lure. A shopoholic could be institutionalized by a visit. Antiques, crafts, stylish clothing and accessories, jewelry, wine and spirits, books abound. Camden has it all within a four-block radius. I especially liked the "Planet" emporium billed as a "general store" for the 21st century. Two friends loaded up on Shard pottery specially made in the region and classic clothing at the elegant Admiral's Buttons which also tempts the furniture lover with the cabinet artistry of Thomas Moser. Gourmet goodies and an eclectic wine selection attracted us to the Lily, Lupine and Fern as did the name alone. The Camden Deli provided us with the perfect after lunch cappuccino. When there was no more room for stuff even in a suburban we left this shopping mecca to see a bit more of the town of Camden. I was especially interested in seeing the charming inns the town is noted for as The Whitehall, The Maine Stay, the windward to name just a few. All are located on High Street called the most beautiful street in Maine.

As we left this lovely tree-lined main street of Camden, my husband the gardener spotted a huge bustling plant nursery. The extraordinary weather had inspired all the planters in the state it seemed to dig in the dirt. Our friends, the new homeowners, were very interested in browsing for goodies for their garden. What a joy it was to see such lavish flowers and plants of every variety and color which would actually grow through the summer in this part of the world. Again we loaded up though the suburban was at full capacity; to think one of us thought the vehicle would be too big.

On our way back to Port Clyde we detoured north a bit to Rockport to drive through the elegant Samoset Resort as one of our crew is an avid golfer and this was the place I'd read about for golf. It is truly the lap of luxury as their ad states. The course is set on the water and is reminiscent of that other more famous course on the opposite ocean, Pebble Beach in California though the two are vastly different in feel. The resort offers fine dining, a fitness center, pools, tennis courts and children's activities. This might be the spot for the yearly guys golf trip. Heading south once again we ventured out to Owl's Head. The lighthouse there also dates back to 1825 and is a twenty foot conical tower built on the peak of the headlands standing eighty-seven feet above sea level. We climbed the stairs to the lookout point at sunset in a "noreaster" wind that nearly blew us off into the water, took a group picture as a windjammer sailed by. I silently said a prayer of thanksgiving simply for being alive.

On the agenda for dinner our second night was Cafe Miranda in Rockland where we headed with cleansed palettes after a brief freshening up moment back at the house. Another wonder- ful thing about Maine is that it is definitely casual - fancy dress for dinner is not necessary. Being a Friday the place was bustling but our table was soon ready and we dove into the eclectic menu of California, Asian, Italian and "coastal" styles. I had a very tasty olive tapenade, fresh mozzarella, tomato and basil salad followed by a spicy red pepper pasta dish with shrimp. The sea air must have whetted our appetites for it seemed to me that we ordered and ate and ordered and ate even more. All of this came to the attention of one of the owners who approached our table to introduce herself and meet the ravenous group of southerners the whole kitchen was giggling about. We thought this charming woman to be Miranda herself but soon learned that Miranda was in truth her now deceased dog whose remains stand watch over the restaurant from their final resting place in a clay pot perched over the doorway. Needless to say after a moment of stifled laughter we took another group shot with Miranda in the background just above our heads. We closed the place down as usual but not before meeting the chef who bestowed upon us the dubious distinction of being the over-indulgers of the evening for our tab was the longest he had ever served. Over the edge with the "Over-Easys" again. In complementing the chef on his culinary ex- pertise he thanked his staff for their highly efficient service and dedication. He took credit only for the creation of the recipes; his staff takes it from there. His motto of "Passion and the relentless pursuit of excellence" serves the establishment well. Arriving home to an incredible display of shooting stars and the Milky Way, we jokingly considered adopting the slogan as our own. Not a bad standard to live by.

Our next couple of days in Maine found us more and more ensconced in the way of life on the coast. We ferried to Mohegan Island on the Elizabeth Ann; the departure point conveniently being the Port Clyde Harbor. Monhegan is a small rocky island ten miles from Port Clyde not even a square mile in area. There are no cars or paved roads on the island. It has long been a summer haven for artists who enjoy the isolation, scenic beauty of the wilderness and unhurried pace. We came this day with picnic in tow to hike one of the eighteen trails on the island that lead in all directions from the center of the village. We chose the Blackhead Trail, which would take us from one side of the island to the other through woods wild and beautiful. As we walked we spotted "fairy" houses and designed and built one of our own for posterity. Our destination on the other side of the island was the panoramic Blackhead Viewpoint which we scaled with the help of "cairns", rounded heaps of stones used as markers to guide hikers like us. What an amazing sight! These led us to the top of rocky cliffs; an elevation of 160 feet. By this point we were breathing heavily, in need of water and famished - the perfect time and location to spread out the picnic lunch. The seascape viewed from the cliffs was awesomely majestic. We spotted a few seals, took a few photos once again and even played a game of double dare. Who could venture out the farthest on the rocks and not fall. I was the chicken as heights daunt me so I was pleased when the game ended and we started merrily back through the woods to the wharf to ferry back home. A cappuccino was a must for the ride so I procured a steamy cup at the Barnacle Cafe at the dock prior to boarding.

Returning to Port Clyde, the ferry passes Burnt Island, Allen's Island and Benner's Island which are all owned by the eminent family of painters, the Wyeths. Amazingly just as the captain announced this my Mainer friend spotted Jamie Wyeth, the painter and son of Andrew Wyeth, grandson of N.C. Wyeth standing on the forward deck of the boat. Being an art lover and admirer of the family, she couldn't resist approaching him to tell him how much she enjoyed a particular piece he had painted. He seemed pleased, even a bit shy as he sauntered away out of the limelight. Dinner on the dock at Tenant's Harbor at the Cod End that evening at dusk was filled with talk of the day's hike. We feasted on fresh caught lobster, corn and crisp wine as we remembered the ferry houses and the cairns, the cliffs and the foamy sea. Sleep would come easily that night but not before a little poetry and the last of the berry pie back at the house.

Art is a vital part of the cultural experience of Maine. The beauty and solitude of the region has inspired creativity in natives and visitors alike. The Farnsworth Art Museum on Main Street in Rockland houses a substantial collection of American art from all eras, Colonial to the present. Great names of the 18th and 19th centuries as Gilbert Stuart, Thomas Sully, and the like are found here as are more contemporary works by American Impressionist, Frank Benson and Impressionist masters Maurice Pendergast and Childe Hassam. The Wyeth Center is part of the Farnsworth complex and showcases three generations of this impressive family of American art. The Center's main galleries are located in a former church which has been distinctively converted with grand architectural detail into exhibition space. We visited both places after church on Sunday and were all duly pleased with the collections. This section of Maine abounds in smaller galleries featuring exhibits by local less famous artists. There are art workshops offered at various times of the year both in Port Clyde and on Monhegan Island, a popular one being the Maine Coast Art workshops sponsored by a woman named Merle Donovan, an acquaintance of my friend. If I ever discover some latent artistic ability in my future years I'd love to return here to take a class.

What we didn't find time for during our long weekend in Maine was much. We couldn't squeeze in a classical music or jazz concert at the Rockport Opera House on the harbor. We missed choral music sung by the "Down East" Singers. I would have enjoyed a "save the lighthouses" lecture sponsored by the Maine Light Program, the group responsible for planning and organizing efforts to preserve these local treasures. Maybe one day we'll return to book a four or five day Windjammer vacation and explore islands by sailboat help- ing to crew at the same time.

True to fashion, we did manage to fit in another shopping stop on the way back to the airport on our last day at Freeport, Maine - the outlet capital of America. After cooling off with a Ben and Jerry's ice cream as the temps were slowly rising again, we separated with just a hour to cover this entire discount city. Too short a time limit to take in all Freeport has to offer; L.L.Bean retail and factory stores, North Face, Patagonia, J. Crew, Calvin Klein, Cole Haan, Thomas Moser Furniture and much, much more. Too much in too little time but we gave it our best shot.

What we did have time for in Maine provided us with memories for days to come. We affirmed, in our last seconds before boarding the plane as we said good-bye to our lucky "second" home friends who were staying a bit longer, that we must come back. We took time out from busy schedules for friendship, for beauty, for nature, for laughter. I am always pleased and amazed by the redemptive power of these great gifts of life and of travel which seems to afford one the time and inclination to appreciate it all. As always I looked forward to returning home, refreshed, renewed and ready to savor home-grown tomatoes and basil, Ruston peaches and the peace and quiet of Island Drive. In the words of song- writer, Ann Reid, "It's now in my sight; Dorothy was right; it's true there is no place like Home." But maybe a second home in a beloved place is a dream worth striving for.