We moved from Boston in mid-December, last year. It was misting on and off while the movers hauled box after box, after bureau after steamer trunk from our small apartment. It was roomy and spacious when we first moved in 11 years before, but we slowly outgrew it. Too much stuff kept coming in and nothing ever went out.

When I was a kid, growing up on a farm in the Adirondacks, my father always had a huge pile of wood, piled around the side of the house. It was a dairy farm that had been in existence since the early 1800's, perhaps even earlier. As any good farm had in those days, there was a good portion of it reserved as the wood lot. Self-sufficiency has always been important to any farm, and maintaining your heating source is essential. My dad did pretty well maintaining that wood lot, as his father and grandfather did before him. Not that the house stayed any too warm in the winter, no matter how much wood you burned.

I have to say I am amazed at my ability to work full-time from western Maine over the Internet with my workplace in Massachusetts, testing software and leading a team of testers in Ireland, India, and Canada. It makes you wonder why there is a need anymore for any centralized office. Especially with gas prices the way they are now (and no real change in sight for lower prices any time soon.)

We bought a canoe once spring arrived this year and the anticipation of all those endless trips around Egypt Pond forced us into it. My wife, Donna, saw it for sale in the yard of a neighbor and we had to buy it. With all the lakes, rivers, ponds and streams in Maine how could we not have a canoe? (My idea of a true boat is anything without a motor on the back end. I like to hear the world as I glide along, rather than ripping through it at a rock concert noise level…but just my opinion..)

OK, I admit it. I hate bats. They're cute, they eat bugs, they are absolutely an integral part of our environment. And yet, when they are in flight, in my house, circling my head… I hate 'em. I'd never hurt one, but I want them out of my house. And yet, they have taken up residence. And so far this season, a number of them have entered the house -- with interesting results for us all.

-- You call it the recycling center, but everyone else calls it the dump.

We live in an old farmhouse in Maine. We have mice. We have five cats. What mouse problem, right? Wrong. When we moved to this farmhouse, surrounded by a large lawn and open meadow, I figured we might be visited by a few mice, especially in the old pantry off the kitchen. What self-respecting field mouse wouldn't go for a nice morsel in the pantry when it's below zero outside? But I knew my cats would take care of that problem.

We always had a truck on the farm when I was a kid in the Adirondacks. Usually a Ford, and often red. There was always a lot of wire and baling twine holding something up or on. Things that fell off weren't considered that important, as long as it kept running. And it usually did. That was when you didn't need a mechanic's degree to work on a car. My dad always seemed to make it run, most days.

We were always carrying something for the farm in the truck, as I remember: bags of grain, rolls of barbed wire, hay bales stacked up over the cab. That was my personal favorite as it was my job to stack the load. A good day was when the bales bounced and shifted, but never fell off as the truck crawled over the field on the way to the barn. A bad day was when the entire load fell off and you had to start all over again. And if you were really good at stacking hay, you rode on top of the load all the way to the barn, proof you could trust your work. (Sometimes trust is a funny thing with bales of hay ...)

It's never easy moving to a new town, or state for that matter. Not to mention write about it. But that's what I will try to do here for you. Successfully, I hope.

My wife, five cats and I are on an adventure here in Maine. After all, life should always be an adventure, and sometimes you have to sit down and share it with others. Over the coming weeks that's what I'll be doing -- sharing with you our new life in Maine.