Another Storm

A tropical storm is brewing off the coast of Massachusetts, and the forecast for this evening through tomorrow is for lots of rain and high winds. Really high winds. But right this minute the sun is shining. The sky is blue. It is a perfect autumn day. And we have a plan—a simple plan but a plan. It’s going to be a Duxbury kind of day.

Last week during the four days of experiencing our first Nor’easter, after Michael took me for a drive to see the raging seas, he pointed the nose of our car north to a place where he thought he saw a lighthouse. It was a futile expedition, and we didn’t even come close. Perhaps because, as he discovered later, it wasn’t a lighthouse at all but a Statue of Myles Standish.

In Search of Myles Standish

Today is the day we are going to try and come face to face with Myles. At least now we know the lighthouse looking structure is in Duxbury. Michael turns his nose up at my offer to have Google Maps take us there in the most expedient manner, and instead uses his own sense of direction.

And a few signs along the way.

We do great till we get to Duxbury, and there are no more signs pointing us anywhere. We travel in circles as Michael tries to figure it out.  Seeing the statue high above us during one of these circuitous routes, helps us immensely.

Finally, we see another sign that does point the way. However, the gate is closed to the state reservation where Myles Standish stands, so we look for a back way into the park. When no back way becomes apparent, we return to the gated road and just look at it.

Refusing to give up now, we notice there is a well worn path around the gatepost. There is no fence, no sign saying closed. No sign saying do not enter, or no trespassing or any other deterrent other than a closed gate to keep out vehicles. I look at Michael and say, “I’m game if you are.”

Finding Myles

We lock the car and follow the narrow trail by the gatepost to the road beyond. The day is beautiful and we happily begin our long walk uphill. When we are near the top Michael spies another trail, this time through the woods. He asks how I feel about a shortcut.

I think the road is perfection. I say so. Not paying one bit of attention to my lament, he turns and starts his trek through the soft carpet of pine needles covering the forest floor, taking the steeper way uphill. What is a girl to do? I follow.

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The trail opens up into an enormous clearing on top of the hill we just climbed. In the middle of the clearing is a soaring shaft of granite reaching for the sky. Myles Standish perches atop the shaft, looking toward the sea.

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It really is wonderful up here, and there is not another soul in sight. This is serendipity at work. We climb the steps, walk around, lose sight of Myles, find him again, snap a dozen photographs and head down the hill. Michael once again takes to the woods. I choose the road. Looking back over my shoulder, I see Myles the way most people see him on this approach. I snap a picture to show Michael what he missed.

Back on the other side of the closed gate, we notice two other cars have pulled into the road leading to the reservation. They park and enter the same way we did; a young couple, a man, his dog. If we broke in, we weren’t the first, and apparently won’t be the last. Perhaps it is a Duxbury secret only residents are aware of.

The Ubiquitous ACE Hardware

When Michael starts his car he gets a warning sign that his key fob battery is low. We look for and find an ACE Hardware store and buy a tiny battery. I need to tell someone somewhere, it is possible to build an ACE that is cute. I don’t think we know how to do this in Texas.

The Milepost Tavern

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We arrive at the cute Milepost Tavern in Duxbury minutes after it opens for lunch. Getting braver about eating clams, I order Clams Casino to share. We are served three tiny, piping hot, delicious bites each. The bacon garnish is bigger than the clams themselves.

Maybe it’s the bacon? They do say bacon makes everything better.

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Michael orders French Onion Soup which looks delicious and decadently rich. I decide on Eggplant Parmesan thinking, small vegetable. This is probably the most inaccurate I have ever been in my assumptions on food portions. Michael’s soup is lighter than it looks, so he eats what I can’t finish.

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One more stop takes us to the Market Basket. We are both tired of eating out. Purchasing enough groceries to get us through the week and through tonight’s and tomorrow’s storm, I can’t wait to get home and start cooking.

And all of my purchases cost less than two lunches out.

Of course.