Over the years of photographing here in Maine, I have always tried to respect the private properties of others. But every now and then I slip up.

Sometimes places I have visited for years change hands, and suddenly I find myself in a place without permission. Or shores I used to walk without concern produce signs alerting me to a territorial shift.

My sensitivity to these notifications may be a bit heightened by a childhood of Hatfield and McCoy turf wars in the hills of central Pennsylvania, an area referred to by James Carville as “Arkansas” (all due respect for local Arkansas transplants).

There are many wonderful locations in our region that I find fascinating. Such is the case with the image I'm sharing this week.

I have never known who lives here, but I have always admired the property. Classic Maine. Old wonderful house, out buildings, tidal waterfront, great oaks — every real estate broker's dream.

Nobody was home. I have only ever seen people there during the summer. I'm not sure if they are renters or owners. But I've never stopped to ask — bad dog. I'm almost certain they wouldn't mind my stopping by, but I prefer not to. It's their personal time and I respect that.

So in this quiet moment (after an early spring snow) I tiptoed along the shore and found a few things that caught my eye. No award winners here, just a lovely spot. I hope the owners won't mind if they see one of their views in the paper.

Please know that I only admired this special place and am grateful for the opportunity to visit.