Castine, Maine, is one of the most picturesque little towns I have ever seen. Every house is old, or is designed to look old, and white – just white, with maybe some gray or black shutters around the windows. Elm trees grow there. Huge, beautiful, hundreds of years old, they have been destroyed everywhere else in the Eastern United States except on the little peninsula where the hamlet of Castine is found.  At the very end of the land, before it becomes the Atlantic Ocean, is Dyce Head Lighthouse. It’s still there, standing strong against the winds and ravages of time. The keeper’s house is a private home now, and…