Willard Beach
Each month, Down East editors select our favorite response to “Where in Maine?” Here is our favorite letter from March’s photo.
It looked so ethereal that I didn’t recognize it at first: my old haunt on Willard Beach — the fishing huts, which were always locked when I tried the doors, and on that little promontory above the rocks, a small park with a bench or two, a place for people to walk their dogs or just watch the water. Nearby is a wall with orange lichen, which I always thought was beautiful. I’ve gone there when I needed to clear my mind, to walk and talk with a friend, and to watch the stormy sea or the sunset. It’s been a lot of things to me, because I used to live close by. I’ve helped direct photo shoots for musicians there, clambered down the rocks, and snuck onto the nearby secret beach (with permission). It’s always changing, yet always the same, a place to slow down, check in, touch base, and just be. — Ouda Baxter, Chengdu, Sichuan, China