The formative years of my life were spent along Maine’s scenic coastline, just outside the state’s biggest city of Portland. Unlike most of the kids I knew, I didn’t watch TV. My days were spent outside. The greatness of summer wasn’t measured by how many times you visited the amusement park, but by how many hours outdoors you were able to cram into each day. By the time I reached second grade I was an aspiring naturalist. In the third grade my parents elected to begin educating me with a curriculum at home. This change allowed me to embrace my love of nature at a young age without the criticism I might have otherwise experienced from my peers. Such treatment could easily dissuaded me from my new found love. My parents decision was perhaps one of the greatest contributing factors influencing my young life, and helped form the person I am today. As a result of this change I had a lot more free time in my schedule. I capitalized on it by satiating my curiosity of the natural world. Some of my happiest memories involve the endless hours spent outside exploring during those years. I was keenly attuned to the native habitat and wildlife that made their home around me. I knew the identifiers that marked when the seasons would change and welcomed them with joy. This kind of knowledge is priceless. It cannot be read from a book or purchased, but must be acquired out of love for a particular region or subject. It’s the reward for a personal investment of time. I like to call this artistic intimacy.