a far cry from the rich reds and browns, and cool midnight purple we boasted on North Street...here, walls are as quiet and pale as snow; furniture covered in chalky white knits and canvas slip covers. the achromatic theme of our new milk and tawny apartment is as untroubled and tranquil as the ends of the earth it sits. 
imagine winter on the rocky limits of Cape Ann, a neck of land north of Boston that protrudes out into the Atlantic, defining the northern frame to Massachusetts Bay...Rockport, MA is an old industrial granite quarry and fishing village turned artist colony that's as quaint as a couple of 18th century old maids knitting and purling on the steps of the church common...and about as quiet too.
it has that old-fashioned charm of walking everywhere. we walk everywhere with our three mutts, parading the thousands of acres of open spaces and public land. we're a bit eccentric in that way...the three mutts part. everyone in Rockport seems to walk. and, everyone in Rockport seems to have a dog. typically a black lab or golden retriever, occasionally a schnauzer...always a lone leash.
from our kitchen window, we gaze between the beach gazebo, the neighboring white cape cod-style home, and the other neighboring white cape cod-style home, and stare for miles upon miles. the ocean size waves are a few yards from our front door smoothing millions of chilled beach stones in dark bronze and cold slate, and softening the edges of small bits of drift wood and sea glass. it is these kinds of tiny treasures that populate our furnished beach rental. watercolor lighthouses and faint beach dunes are matted and framed in simple white and chrome. an occasional starfish or seahorse might pop up on a dish towel or oven mitt. and rest assured, sea shells play an important role in the bathroom. this house is a sea horse, sea shell party and you're all invited.
so, we're out on this icy peninsula for the winter months, removed of most colors and worries. slipping into a hibernation of mind and body...ruminating on a great year no matter what the news and our bank statements suggest. we're finding our way around. picking our favorite irish pub and roast beef house (i forgot how popular roast beef sandwich shops are up here). with a few short sunsets remaining, and a third of the heating season behind us, the flush activities of spring will be ripe and alive in no time. until then, i'm going to enjoy an extra long Guinness to keep the fire warm and relish in the fact that i can smell the tides coming in and out.
come visit anytime:
3 smith street ct
rockport ma 01966
828.215.5788 (j)
828.582.5588 (k)
they were calling for six inches of snow last night...they must be using metric inches...
