Three - Count Them- Three Years!!!

Last Wednesday, my grandfather called to wish Kyle and me a happy anniversary. "Wow, two years," he said proudly, as I am his only grandchild. "Actually, it's been three years," I corrected him.

His response: "Then where are my damn great-grandchildren?"

Yes, it's true. Three years and no kids to show for it, unless you count Nikon, who bounded into our lives last summer. And that's fine with us. We've been busy these past three years, falling in love and learning, inspiring, and challenging each other. It all sounds so lovely, doesn't it, and most days it is. Some days are hard. Some days are very hard. Some days are very, very hard. Life and the things it throws at us aren't always easy- wonderfully dysfunctional families (yeah- you know you've got one), career crisis', picking out paint colors for the living room at Lowe's. He makes me giggle through most of it, and every evening, around five, I find my heart gets giddy when I hear his car buzz up the street and settle into the driveway, as 10 long legs leap down the stairs to greet him at the door. I look at him sometimes, and I just want to burst knowing how blessed I am and we are.

For the last two years, he talked to me on the phone for two hours three nights a week as I slowly made my way back through the darkness and the fog from Orono, where I attended graduate school, to our cozy little home in Farmington, where he'd been waiting in the driveway to carry my school bags into the kitchen, where dinner and the dogs would be. Five hours later, he'd get up to go to work, making sure the coffeepot was ready, so all I had to do was press a button when I groggily got up hours after he'd already been at work. And every single morning I had to drive, my car would magically be filled with gas. I am so, so, so lucky and each day, I strive to be the woman and the wife who deserves him. His love for me, makes me love me, if that makes any sense.

For our anniversary (officially on September 24), Kyle gave me a pair of Cole Haan rainboots (in green), I'd been coveting, a thick pair of wool socks and took me on a surprise rainy weekend getaway to one of my favorite places on earth: Monhegan Island. I first discovered this small island about 10 miles off the coast of Port Clyde (between Rockland and Boothbay Harbor) while on a photo assignment for the Washington Post, via the Maine Office of Tourism back in 2005. Everything you imagine a Maine coastal community to be, Monhegan actually is. Unspoiled (no t-shirt shops or even cars on the island), it's a muse for many of the nation's most celebrated artists (Jamie Wyeth, Rockwell Kent, etc.) and one of Maine's leading lobstering grounds.

While Hurricane Kyle might have thwarted some visitors, it actually made my Kyle all the more excited to take me there, knowing the rain and wind would force us to just relax, and add to our adventure. As we bucked through the 10 foot plus swells on the boat ride to the island on Saturday morning, a fellow islandgoer told us it was fitting to celebrate the anniversary of a marriage in such conditions and we agreed. The weekend was perfect, mostly spent watching the surf and eating chowder nearly ever meal. At first, I was a little leery of our accommodations (no electricity in our room!) but they turned out to be beyond lovely with a delicious dinners served family style by candle light and plenty of oil in the bedside lamp so I could read a junk novel from the common room while the surf smashed into the shore a few hundred feet away.

We actually took a day trip Monhegan for our first anniversary back in 2006 and had a miserable time because it poured so much you couldn't see straight, leaving me stressed my camera would get wet all day and peeved that our first anniversary had been ruined. After three years of marriage though, we're at a place where we realize every celebration doesn't have to be sunshine and bonbons, and that we in fact prefer when things are imperfect (just like us) because that gives us more to talk and laugh about. That said, when I asked Kyle if I should bring my camera on this trip, he quickly told me no (that should have been a hint as to our destination). But once I figured out we were heading to Monhegan, I made him stop at a Target (any excuse!) in Brunswick so I could buy a point and shoot. (I also picked up a fabulous new sweater.) Sadly, it was too wet or foggy to get anything good, but I'll share a few shots with you here.


Arriving at my favorite place.



The honeymooners (still).


Check out that surf!!! This house was Jamie Wyeth's and sits on Lobster Cove on the southern tip of the island, one of Monhegan's prettiest spots and to me, Heaven on Earth.


Kyle watches the waves at Lobster Cove in awe. We literally sat on the rocks for several hours, admiring the waves and swearing each one was the biggest we'd ever seen. After we returned home, I read this on a Monhegan informational website: "...high surf can sweep you away if you're too close to the sea. No one has been saved who has gone overboard from Green Point to Lobster Cove."


Pointing out another wave on the other side of the rocks. Check out how frothy the water is behind him! You should have heard it!


The Warren's, minus our better halves, who were at doggie daycare.


I love the traditional weathered Cape Cod cedar shakes that side most of the houses on the island. There is something very summery about it, and that makes me smile!


This was the sign in the window of the island coffee shop on Sunday, the day we returned to the mainland and the day Hurricane Kyle was expected to pound through. Suffice to say, we did not take the 4:30 boat as planned!


Instead, we took the noontime boat. Here is the view from the harbor as we were about to board: check out that storm rolling in!


It was kind of a nasty boat ride back in the spit and the swells, but being a Maine Guide and all, Kyle had packed the right rain gear.


Look at the wind filling up his hood. (Either that, or he has a very small head.)


If I had to pick one shot that best told the story of our weekend, I think this would be it. This is the famed Marshall Point Lighthouse as seen from our boat. Good thing the captain knew the route.


Not much better in Port Clyde, where our boat docked, but this was actually the clearest we'd seen it all weekend. Perhaps a good sign of things to come?

Happiest anniversary, Ky! Thank you for loving me exactly as I am, as I you.