Every time I am in Maine, my neighbor, who is an accomplished baker, brings me a treat. Blueberry muffins, cranberry bread, or a plate of the ginger snaps she just made for her little girls are a welcome sign like no other.
This neighborly gesture is usually my first emotional reminder that I am back in Maine, where women bake skillfully and not without a little bit of competition for potlucks, library fundraisers and church suppers.
Last summer when a new “Pies for Sale” went up in front of a house on Main Street, Southwest Harbor, it was important news for locals and tourists alike. I’m already plotting that maybe this new source will lessen the fierce competition among buyers for the pies sold at the Somesville Union Meeting House next year.
My musing about what to make for Thanksgiving has started, and I think my neighbor’s pumpkins muffins – perhaps converted into a loaf – will be on the menu. If I get to work baking next weekend, the aroma of the cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger in my kitchen will heighten my anticipation of my favorite holiday.
But I don’t need this to remind me of how thankful I am for friends like my neighbors in Maine.