After searching the Town Beach in Narragansett (with what seemed like hundreds of other people) for any storm-tossed treasures, and finding only a surf clam shell, my stepson, Sam, and I decided to go for higher ground and find a place no other beachcombers had been. The storm surge had gone a couple of hundred yards inland, so we headed in that direction,...
Read MoreThe ocean– You bring it home in your pockets and shoes and empty the sand onto the kitchen floor. Tiny grains ground down from continents. On the windowsill is a jar full of sea glass and inside the jar you have your favorites—and not all are smooth and perfect and blue. It can’t all be about ocean policy and rules and all the things we do...
Read MoreSurf fishing for striped bass, Point Judith lighthouse. Cast after cast. You begin to doubt yourself. The tide’s all wrong, moon’s too bright. Nothing feels right—the makings of a wasted night. Your mind wanders. You lose interest in changing lures, chasing tide. You went fishing to go fishing, there was no other reason. You wanted to feel a fish on...
Read MoreThe completely ordinary. The commonplace. The pond and stream that are in every town, spread across everyplace. There are good reasons to think about the pond that one day may become a parking lot. I fully love the shithole of a sluggish stream, where the water strider zipping across the surface is the insect of our childhoods, and we never bothered...
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