Sunday, July 28, 2013


"Salt Pond, Cape Cod"
pastel by Nancy Poucher
 Yesterday morning Delycia and I enjoyed canoeing on Ninigret Pond, a coastal waterway in Rhode Island, and it brought back an old feeling of being bold, maybe even brave, maybe even a bit boisterous and reckless. Of course, we were on the quietest of salt ponds and were never in any danger, but even so, I felt filled with a strange sense of voyaging and adventure. We were, it sometimes seemed, truly out in the wilds, albeit perfectly civilized wilds, considering the stately summer homes along the shore. At times I imagined that we were paddling frantically to find the next portage in an inhospitable wilderness, conveniently ignoring the fact that all the amenities of a high-class community were a shell’s throw away. We wrinkled and worn senior citizens, I said to myself, were valiantly daring to make this dangerous journey, defying colossal odds to make the perilous crossing from Ninigret Park to Fort Ninigret. I thought of us as warrior retirees, fearless seniors, gutsy golden-agers. Nothing could stop us – not winds, not waves, not raspy coughs, not shortness of breath, not old and ramshackle muscles. (Plus, we knew our cell phones were handy, and our car was just a few shell-throws away.)

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