This isn’t about standup paddle boarding though there is a paddle board in the garage and two outside the next-door neighbor’s porch.
But the Narragansett wind has yet to lay down since we arrived in Barrington.
We visited Colt State Park yesterday where blue sky and dark water framed sail boats playing in the bay. The park could have been anywhere, except for the age of the buildings that had a sturdy maturity to them; a certain regal angle about the way they held themselves. Not pretentious, but stable, connected to the earth, set against a treelined backdrop.
We drove into Bristol where some of the trees were turning, and the street lines were a patriotic red, white and blue. The waterfront cafes varied from contemporary burger joints to the historical DeWolf Tavern where rum barrels and old photos were the last vestiges of the slave trade triangle from the 1700s.
We finished the day watching Tom Brady lead the Patriots to a stomping of the Dallas Cowboys while listening to our host’s sister discuss authors whom she’d lead around the Boston area including Anne Lamott, J.K. Rowling, and T.C. Boyle.
I’m looking forward to seeing the blast of fall color that has so far only punctuated the landscape. But I’ve been happy just to roam New England and marvel at the old wood floors, the simple shingle structures, and the lacework water ways that weave through the countryside and the city.