By Jillian Bedell
The peninsulas emit a siren song that draws us, with no small risk, toward the ocean. Ever since Malcolm started taking me here while we were in college, we’ve made the drive on Route 131 (turn at the Knox Mansion – Very Revolutionary), to fill our bottles from the bubbling spring at Wiley’s Corner, to wade into the Atlantic at Drift-In Beach, and see the sunset where hayfields finally yield to the St. George River. South Thomaston, Tenant’s Harbor, St. George, Port Clyde, Spruce Head. These villages have a magic, a quietness, a quality unlike most other places on earth. These days we’re there a lot, stopping at Harjula’s Dairy Bar, a delivery truck planted in the farm field on a hill above the water, for ice cream at least one evening a week. It is one of my favorite places to be right now.