Our mailbox is large, old and dilapidated. It’s at the end of the drive - some 1.65 miles from the house. When my aunt spent summers at Squabetty back in the 70s and 80s, her mail was forwarded and she used the mailbox regularly. Not so much anymore.  In those days, we had a Cambridge address. We look in the old box about once a year - and retrieve phone books and flyers that were left there months ago. The spiders like the shelter, safety and peace. It was much to our surprise and perhaps...

The Pleasant Valley Cemetery is at the bottom of Deane Road. It is where I want to be buried – knowing this land and mountain which is so dear to my heart will be near me forever is of great comfort. My mother and father, and Aunt Ginnie are there. I sit with them periodically throughout the year. And even when I don’t stop and walk in, I say a few things to them as I drive by.  The cemetery has old, old stones. The land was first deeded by the Shanley family in 1813. Some are in good...

Running to the sea... The seasons change and the beauty of this place changes as well. Draped in blankets of snow, it soaks in the southern sun when it decides to appear. The sun sets in a totally different place; the long shadows at 4 in the afternoon remind me of the short days of winter, even though that too is changing.  It’s bitter cold, still and silent, until you get to the bridge and you can still hear it…a whisper on its way to the ocean. Still moving, heading down as it does in the...