My Town

I portage the 200 yards from the house, down the hill, down the seawall, and into the salt water.  It's a trip I do less often than when we first moved to this town.  But, it is worthwhile, particularly in the winter when no other boats are around other than the oyster fleet. 

I cut through or around the groins, the man-made rock wing dams that were intended to limit erosion or to hold beach sand in place.  Milford touts its miles of beaches.  I think more of its dozens of groins.  We have 8 or 10 in our neighborhood...whatever the original plan was, they certainly didn't keep any sand in place.  Our shore is all cobbles and boulders.

All of the winter neighbors are about.  Brandts swim right at the waters edge picking at things growing in rocky shallows.  Long Tail Ducks are farther out, although not as far as usual.  They dive long and deep feeding off the bottom.  The males call out nonstop - and with the calm air I can hear a great many more than I can see.

The Harbor

I paddle into our small harbor.  I figure it would've been an excellent protected anchorage for 18th century sailing ships, but too small for the larger vessels of the steam era.  It is now a mix of work and pleasure craft.  It is always quiet in winter.  When we first moved here most of my canoe trips started in the harbor.

The clouds meet me at the harbor entrance.  Rain is predicted for the afternoon, but it I don't sense it coming, yet.

I turn and return home under grey skies.  I portage up the seawall, then 200 yards to home.  I am happy to live here.