A Walk Along Flat Rocks

Patriots Day means many things to many people. But we fear that to the wife and I it meant just another grand and glorious Sunday to stretch our legs for a walk with the "monster," that 40 pound spayed female Mollie. There's no getting over it, a better day for travelling a-foot couldn't have been found anywhere.

Worse the luck, it had to be shortened because the yard needed a fine tooth massage after the winter's spraying of debris all over the place. And it had to be done before the weatherman made good his promise of wet weather over the holiday weekend. Besides our Spring visitors from down South (of Boston) should be treated to dressed up grounds. That's what they pay their meter money for.

The coin this time came up on a car hop to Pigeon Cove as a time saver, and a short walk back of the tool company, along the shore and the rocks, then up Cathedral Avenue down Balestracci's Boulevard (Green Street) and back to the limousine. No muscle-rippler by any means but it had to do.

We were no strangers to part of this stroll, but we soon learned the old orbs must be dimming for completely missed was the invisible house on the left opposite the foundry. All that can be seen by the naked eye is the stone foundation and the stone pillars out front for the steps to the front door. But no house in sight. Even a pear tree had become a skeleton. That didn't stop a group of happy youngsters enjoying themselvs in the gnarled brush.

Nearby stood the home of someone who must think an extra lot of birds for four little homes were arranged atop a grape arbor. And the well-kept lawn showed brilliant green where Spring has smiled upon the grass. Up the hill loomed a stone wall that must have been 12 foot high. Think of that today in dollars! Only when that was built, it must have been the labor that was enormous.

Molly had a real ball for herself in that neighborhood. Every four-legger proved to be either a yipping or a barking friend. No other spayeds in this territory. In fact the fast slowing down galoot was even taken on a guided tour of the area by one new-found noser.

Up along the bluffs back of the Hotel Edwards to look smack into a heavy haze over the Atlantic. Here's where the wife noted how flat are the rocks along the Pigeon Cove shore, apparently different from most of the rest of the Cape. Even an old-timer finds them easier on the equilibrium.

Around the bend we came upon the sad spectacle of what must have once been tennis courts. Right now the court was knee deep in weeds and such. The enclosing wire fences were shreds dropping form the metal poles. Isn't there any greater call for tennis than this? To us, it seems to be an outdoor sport that should be re-captured by the existing generations in much larger numbers.

The green-eyed monster (not Molly, the boxer) crept within us as we passed a solid stone home on the bluff. It looked so formidable, as if it could withstand the furies of any attack. And what a command of the changing ocean. For the first time in months, we had fellow travelers all around us. We found folks who make us look like pikers when it comes to Sunday walks. There were Archie and Janette MacMasters who left Broadway, New York, to roost on Broadway, Rockport. Long ago they discovered Cape Ann on foot and were upset because their friends elsewhere think the only Cape in the Bay State is named for a fish instead of a queen.

Others hiking toward the Cove were the Alex Marrs and Marjie Norton. We felt real guilty for they caught us in the car on the way home. After all, we are supposed to the walkers, the wife and I!

J.P.C., Jr.