I turn into the Hidden Pond property, past a small guardhouse, onto a narrow tree-lined road. On both sides, a forest of white birch and balsam fir envelops the drive, and I’m taken back to the Maine woods I remember from a childhood trip.
Ahead, I see what appears to be the resort’s main reception cottage. Bright orange pumpkins line the stairs, and I learn it’s just one of many cottages hidden among the trees. The leaves have just started to turn — some golden, some crimson, many still green — and fall one by one as I walk across the street to my cottage, #13, in the afternoon light.



