This is really nothing more than just one visual reason why I love where I live — and work — as much as I do.
The Memorial Day parade out in front of the gallery is one of the Big Events of the year here in Rockport. I am blessed to live in a place where there aren’t a lot of Big Events; it’s nice and quiet and that’s just the way I like things at this point in my life.
Once a year a local winery throws a Big Party which raises funds for various good causes. Down the hill, at the harbor, our neighbors, Rockport Marine (wooden-boat builders as fine as any in North America) launch a boat every few years and those are truly wonderful events — really the essence of the community spirit found in our little town. We’ve got a launching coming up in July, and I can’t wait.
But here, it’s pretty low-key and quiet and very, very beautiful. Hard to find post-cards and tee-shirts for sale in Rockport. And there are still better than a dozen commercial boats that fish out of this harbor, one that Charles Kuralt called “the most perfect small harbor in America.”
I am writing these words from my desk behind the second-floor window with the shade rolled up, above the gallery itself.
I can look out this window, down at the harbor and out to the islands and bay beyond. I can look down and see the bridge that carried Sunday’s parade. Under that bridge swim spawning alewives, occasional seals and even baby glass eels, all the way from the Sargasso Sea.
The translucent eels, known as elvers, are perfectly clear — the only thing you can see in/on them are their tiny black eyes. They run a long, long gauntlet of currents, tides and predators.
Yet they somehow manage to fetch up here every spring.
It took me a long time — and my own gauntlet — to get here, but when I did I knew I was home.
And I count my blessings every single day. Multiple times every single day.
I am truly as lucky as it gets.
It is truly humbling.
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