Intermission in Acadia

I had hoped to blog daily from Acadia, but the best laid plans are lost to time, and Thoreau. I've seen ducks that walk trails, and eagles with head and tail feathers whiter than time itself, and a bat that patrols a thirty-foot section of trail with militaristic detail. I've seen visions of endless ocean from granite mountains, brooks come alive with talking spring freshets, and lakes sparkling with a single kayak and the lonesome sound of loons. Otherwise, this place is just the usual. Paradise. (Walks to be assembled at a later date.)