I’ve walked the circle in Maidstone regularly since 1996, though my friend Steven, who still proudly fits in his uniform has me beat. He’s lived on my block more than 50 years and though we’ve both seen some changes, thankfully, things pretty much stay the same. I’ve been around the world a few times now, but still come back to Maidstone. The air and water is clean. The sunsets can break your heart. There are a quirky mix of people, and I never tire of the ebb and flow of the flora and fauna that live here. New people come and go, there are more year-rounders. My house was built from scavenged wood from the Rough Riders camp at Montauk in 1898. Now it’s the deer that scavenge my garden and every winter I wage war with the mice. My neighbor Ted keeps tabs on all of us, and his cute and sweet looking little dog Casey, would have taken your hand off if you let down your guard for even a second. Casey is gone now, but not forgotten. Of all my photos, these are the closest to my heart. I know they’re not the Hamptons that everyone talks about, but this is my Hamptons.