One of my grandmother's closest long-time friends is an artist who lives on Vinalhaven. They have known one another for many years, and my grandma writes her long letters on a very regular basis. I remember visiting her home when I was a child, and of course we went to see her while we were on the island. She loved meeting our boys, who she's of course heard quite a lot about from my grandma.

I simply adore her home, studio, and garden—filled with gorgeous light and details that tell a story of a beautiful and full life on the island.

 

I was thrilled that as we were leaving, Rhoda offered to let Seth pick a few apples from her tree. He one right there on the spot, and I was so happy that he had that experience (one he could never get here in Florida).

The next day we rode the ferry back to the mainland and did a bit of exploring in downtown Rockland before making the drive back to Portland to fly home. I stood on the ferry's top deck with my husband, despite the cold bit that numbed my nose and fingers. I was determined to stay until the island disappear from viw—savoring every glimpse.

Until next time, dear friend. 

This is the final post of four documenting our family's trip to Vinalhaven, Maine.  
Read the others: part one, part two, part three.

 

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