Sadly, I am not the one flying this contraption. No, we were picnicking in Gillette Castle State Park when we saw this unknown aviator take off from the other side of the Connecticut River. He circled a few times and then flew off to destinations unknown.
My only question is: where do I get one?
Squamscott River along Swasey Parkway, Exeter, New Hampshire
Exeter, New Hampshire, is a worthy stop to while away an afternoon. Browse the downtown boutiques, take a book to the excellent Swasey Park (as we did), or kayak the calm Squamscott River.
“That was way back in Saugerties,” Shannon said yesterday, in reference to some mundane errand. She could have said “That was a month ago” or, “That was in May,” because both are true. But she didn’t. She could also have uttered the seemingly nonsensical sentence “That was Saugerties ago,” and I’d have understood exactly what she meant.
And so it occurred to me, that points on the map are now more useful to us in judging time than days or months on the calendar. Monday doesn’t really have a special significance any longer, other than the fact that many museums are closed that day. Boothbay, Maine, meanwhile, is three days away. And Narragansett marks for us the fickleness of Spring in an experiential way that “May” never could.
It’s hard to tell how this fledgling calendar will develop over time, or whether it will at all. But one thing is clear even today: Florida already feels kind of Christmassy.
The very last thing we expected to find while looking for parking in downtown Portsmouth, NH, was a submarine. But there it sat. Smack dab in the middle of the grass just to the left of our wrong turn. It wasn’t on our agenda for the day, but what the hell? Happening upon unexpected stuff is something we always hope for. So that is how we ended up on the USS Albacore, a 1950s experimental submarine. Mostly what we discovered onboard is that neither one of us is cut out for submarine duty. This thing makes our RV look like the Taj Mahal, only with worse plumbing. Over the past month we’ve learned to make the most of our holding tanks by conserving water, but when out to sea, sailors on the Albacore were limited to “one shower per week, whether needed or not.” Whether needed or not? There were fifty guys crammed into a really tiny space with poor ventilation. I suppose once everyone’s olfactory nerves are destroyed from the stench, nobody really needs a shower any longer.
After that short detour we eventually found our way to downtown Portsmouth. This is our kind of city; small enough to be manageable on foot but large enough to have the vibrant pulse a city should. With it’s smattering of attractive colonial architecture, we could easily envision settling down here, at least for the summer months. Portsmouth also reportedly has one of the highest concentrations of restaurants per-capita in the country. I’m doubtful of the distinction, but they do have a lot, which is certainly a plus. We, of course, chose Portsmouth Brewery for dinner where we had a couple of craft beers that were delish and pulled pork sandwiches that were just ah-right.
The “anchor” of the evening was live blues and jazz music on Pleasant Street performed by T.J. Wheeler & The Smokers. For eight years now, Pro-Portsmouth, has arranged a free, open air, concert series called “Summer in the Street.” They stage several concerts over the course of the summer with music ranging from “Texas Swing” to Jazz.
Pull up a chair and enjoy the show (or at least a very short sampling) . . .
Now that Brian is no longer employed, one of us has to put gas in the RV—which isn’t cheap, as we found out during our first fill-up. I’ve had a bunch of great writing projects to work on lately, but it was nice to take a break and spend a couple of hours at the beach in Hampton. The water was a gorgeous blue-green, and with birds dive-bombing for food (a pretty extraordinary feat) it was like an up-close version of the Nature Channel.
It was my ideal kind of beach
day, too: cloudy, warm, a nice breeze, an occasional burst of sunshine, and a good book in hand—The Elegance of the Hedgehog, a novel set in a Paris apartment building and one of the purchases from the 11 bookstores I’ve visited so far on the RV adventures. Now it’s back to work. We need more than gas money.
Everywhere Once 