Rockport from Granite Pier. We returned to our adopted-ancestral home for the second-annual Cape Ann vacation. What you can't see from this photo is the American Academy of Pediatric convention that we attended for a few days. Have you ever seen 2,000 pediatricians fighting over a tote bag? Do you want to?
Essex, our first stop after arriving on Cape Ann. Cymande enjoyed Farnham's clam chowder in the drizzle while ignoring the heap of fried clams, onion rings and fries. Just a few steps away, Moss and Giles slept in the rented Impala.
Giles intently focuses upon steering an immobile antique tractor. He held the course.
Russel Orchards, Ipswich. Moss was excited and happy to meet the turkeys of Russel Orchards. I encouraged this relationship until he pointed at his new friend. He looked at me in horror after the turkey sampled his plump index finger; clearly, this turkey was not his friend.
Giles enthusiastically heads for the duck pond; Ross watches apathetically.
Giles enjoying himself at Russel Orchards: cider donuts, playful pigs, conspiratorial turkeys, rocks and bits of straw.
Early morning breakfast at Sugar Magnolia's in Gloucester. We just didn't feel it this year...dark, Metallica playing at 7am, ignored by our waitress and heaps of bland food.
Moss, Giles and Cymande at Good Harbor with Twin Lights on the horizon.
Ross and Giles at Zumi's in Ipswich. Moss and Giles tore the place up while Ross and I drank our weight in cafe mocha. Thankfully there were many courteous patrons that returned my wayward children. Ross displayed his years of parenting expertise.
Moss and Giles on Bearskin Neck.
Unintentional abstract signage on Bearskin Neck.
Across the street from the Ocean View Hotel on the Back Shore in Gloucester. Cymande and I stood here 10 years ago after we were married at the Ocean View. At the time we imagined that the cement residues were symbols of Mars and Venus. I still entertain this thought.
Front Beach, Rockport. The family enjoys a post-Tuck's candy and coffee on the beach. Cymande said 'Rockport smells like sea flowers.' Shortly after we made our way over to George Anderson's gallery for our first real art purchase. It will look great in our new Seattle/Ipswich/Gainesville home.
Pilot Hill, Gloucester. Giles and Moss visited Carley, Gerry, Danielle and Dot. Giles demonstrated his spit-finger stone throw.
Appleton Farms, Ipswich. Giles reaches into the unknown.
The Great Meadow, Appleton Farms, Ipswich. I pushed the boys through mud and over rocks with determination. I had a goal. I met my goal.
Appleton Farms, Ipswich. Moss inadvertently poses for a cute Autumnal picture. He was mostly chasing Giles from pumpkin hole to pumpkin hole. Pumpkin hole.
The pine grove at Appleton Farms. Unseen is a small pond to the right where I hallucinated a scuba diver, but it was just a Canada goose feeding. Did I mention that Moss woke me up every 2 hours throughout our vacation?
Jenn prepares dinner. Giles wanted to say, "More quinoa!" but he mostly pointed, yelled, "drock" and shoveled heaps of dinner into his mouth.
The new guitar room at Jenn and Daniel's house.
Shameless self-promotion on the stairs.
Stavros Reservation, Essex. Ross, Moss and I turn our backs to the glorious Essex River Estuary. Ross asked about the stone structure atop the hill and I told him some rambling tale. Well, I looked it up and it was a pump house for the Burnham Farm in the 1880's and/or a lookout tower for Burnham-owned coal barges approaching Newburyport. You decide.
To the left: Castle Hill and Crane beach. To the right: Hog Island. In the grass: half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
