Sweeter than a drop of blood from a sugarcube
There has been one unambiguous motif to my reactions to everything that's happening around me, and that is an overbearingly cliche cocktail of fear and excitement about personal responsibility and pending adulthood.
As it turns out, someone on ye olde farm crew in Maine has unexpecedly bailed and I was offered the position for the end of the summer. So I'll be in Maine from late July to mid August. Though it lacks the gritty chutzpah of the Southwest, New England is charming in its own right. And I just keep coming back.