Day at Blueberry Point

David and Thom are dog-sitting for their friend, Audrey, who owns this piece of the coast called Blueberry Point.  I joined them there Tuesday for lunch and a visit that included a tour of the house and grounds.  It's impossible for me to imagine owning such a place, though I must say I did not feel particularly out of place.  I am used to the ocean being nearby.  I know cliffs and rocks and beaches.  I, too, live in a house from which I can see the water.  Blueberry Point, though, is all of that dressed in it's most elegant finery.  From the huge covered porch of the house, gently sloping blueberry fields roll to the top of a precipitous cliff down to the beach.   We walked with the dogs down a long wooden stairway and while they played we explored the shoreline.  Across the water we could see St. Andrews, Canada, and the Algonquin Hotel perched high on a hill.  Though this beach is only a few miles from Eastport, the rocks that make up the cliff are very different.  The rocks there are softer, worn smooth by the tides.  There are deep crevices that the water has chiseled out of the flat face of stone as it comes and goes, too deep to gauge how far they penetrate.


The house itself has the personality of a summer home used by generations.  The walls upstairs are covered with family pictures.  It's a comfortable house where it's easy to imagine children jumping on the furniture and dogs running happily in and out.  It's also a showplace, beautifully appointed without being intimidating. 


We had a wonderful lunch, relaxed with wine.  It was a beautiful day, out of the ordinary, and a treasure.