My grandparents have lived on a farm in Anson, Maine for as long as I can remember. Recently, they sold it, and now live in the husk while they build their dream home in nearby Oakland, Maine at the ripe old ages of 88 and 92.
My brother, his wife, and I spent the day in Anson before the big move. We launched rockets like we used to do as kids. With the push of a button, my brother’s shuttle shot into the sky. We first watched in awe before breaking out into laughter as the parachute failed to deploy, sending him into a full sprint in an attempt to save his spacecraft before impact. He didn’t.
“My life started when I met him,” my grandmother later said at dinner, looking up at my grandfather. We spent the evening in the living room surrounded by moving boxes, drinking bottles from Allagash, and reminiscing about the times we’ve had on the farm.
I felt the weight of a seemingly impossible task growing: to make this visit a special one. This place has amassed its own lore over the last 27 years of my life, and I knew that, although I could visit again, it would never be the same without these people here. But then my brother poured a glass of Allagash’s Farm to Face, a mixed-fermentation peach beer released just once per year, and I drifted back into a much more pleasant, and present, state of mind.
Words + Photoby Tyler Plourd