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Wednesday, July 17, 2013


    As we left Peggy's farm near Boston, we passed though a former Shaker village.  The late 1800's religious group got its name because they got down worshiping God with ecstatic dancing.  I suppose it was meant to replace sex as anything that might lead to children was not allowed. 


  We passed several beautifully crafted dormitories and buildings that men and women lived and worshiped in separately.                          Shaker barn remains
 Like lollipops, Shaker grave markers   

We stopped at a farm to buy peaches.  Owner Franklin Carlson was packing these beauties. 

 He gave me one he had tossed because it had a slight blemish.

  Frank complained about how hard it was to get people to pick his blueberries, apples, and peaches, "I treat my Jamaicans well, they're legal, but Congress makes it so hard. They think peaches come from refrigerators."   Mine came from his garbage can and it tasted great.
   We drove south to Cape Cod where we met up with Francesca's brother, Frano, and his family.  

That night we camped behind the Falmouth Curling Club, a place where grown men drink bear and slide, what looks like tea kettles, over ice.  It was once an Olympic sport.  The only curlers I know twist hair into spirals.
   In the morning we went explored the Cape's seashore. On a light house outcropping we came upon a memorial dedicated a  woman whose plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. 
There is a lot of heartache up here.  You hear a lot of talk about people losing loved ones at the WTC, Sandy Hook, and the Boston Bombing.

     Near Buzzards Bay, the six of us wandered down Sippewissett Beach.  We came to a place where the incoming tide was flows past and deep into a marsh. We sank into the clear, cool water.  Slowly swept away, we felt renewed.  Some let themselves be carried deep into the marsh.  When the tide changes, they are carried back.
 Ava loves a good book

    Later in the day visited my cousin Murrey near Narragansett, Rhode Island. He and I have a lot in common; we're both crafty guys filled with wild ideas.  The retired textile worker led us on a seashore tour.
 Shoreline, Narragansett Bay


Artist Gilbert Stuart was born at this mill nearby.  The lovingly maintained buildings are the pride of the community. He is most famous for his portraits of his friend, George Washington.
Driving west we stopped to visit old friends in Milford, Connecticut.  The beaches on Long Island Sound were beautiful and crowded. This house had a great view.  We passed a restaurant with name that would do well in Miami, "Sloppy Jose's".  
    On our next stop we will visit former Grove artist, Ward Shelley, near Easton, Connecticut.  Stay tuned in.

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