Sadly, and I hate to admit it, but the weather has been miserable. However, today’s forecast predicts sun. It is hard to believe, yet here it is—unfortunately it is only one day. Then wet and windy gloom return. The old adage of making hay when the sun shines makes more and more sense to me.

So, with the sun causing our little silver, new-age looking Honda to glimmer and gleam, we make our way to Duxbury for a dose of local history. Somewhere along the way Michael takes an unexpected turn. “Where are we going?” I ask.

“I thought you wanted fall flowers,” is his reply.

I secretly think he wants to take pictures of pumpkins.

The Bradford House

The Duxbury Rural and Historical Society, is very active, apparently well-funded, owns four historic homes, and properties too numerous to mention. Two of the historic homes, only open on occasion, are open today. Our first stop is the Bradford House.

Before we even walk in the door, some of my questions are answered, by the sign outside—who built it and when. Discovering it was built in 1807 by a descendant of Governor William Bradford, one of the original founders of Plymouth Colony, we step through the door.

Standing in the tiny entrance hall to greet us is the organizations Archivist and Historian, Carolyn Ravenscroft. I could lean against this door frame forever and just talk to her, listening to her stories about the Bradford’s and their daughters without ever looking at a thing in the museum. The depth of her knowledge is a rare treat—for me at least. This small museum is stunning in the information it shares. And to be here, in this tiny town of approximately 16,000 people is totally amazing.

The Sea Captain Who Built It

Not furnished in a colonial sea captain’s life-style, it has been re-imagined into a museum. The two front rooms tell the story of Gershom Bradford and his wife, giving a hint of their enduring love through their many long separations, with letters found in the attic. They were meticulously sorted, read and archived as part of the Historical Foundations collections.

After reading a portion of a letter that was written when the couple was in their late 50’s or early 60’s, I am touched by the depth of the love they still felt and expressed on paper. It makes me sad that this type of history is pretty much gone today. Phones. Emails. Texts. All so easily ended. Easily expunged. We erase a part of our history each time we press that little delete button, or make a call instead of writing a letter.

The Daughters Who Lived Here

The room opposite is dedicated to the four daughters of this couple and their contributions to the time in which they lived. None of them famous, but all of them educated, vibrant, caring individuals, who did what they could to make the world a better place. Two of the sisters were Civil War nurses. A room on the top floor of the house is a peek into a world of medicine and hygiene at that time, and it is fascinating. I read and snap pictures at a furious pace.

The King Caesar House

We leave the interior residential streets of Duxbury, making our way to the second historic house that faces Duxbury Bay—The King Caesar House on King Caesar Road. Parking our car across the street from the large historic old home, Michael immediately heads away from our destination and toward the water—low tide on the bay. Then I lose him. He disappears behind the trees. Always, always, exploring.

A Giant Holly

It is my turn to dawdle when we cross the street and walk across the yard to the back entrance of the grand old house. I am drawn, not to the house, but to the two largest holly bushes/TREES that I have ever seen in my life. Their height far exceeds the two-story house behind it. From afar, even though they looked like holly bushes, I couldn’t believe they were. Now I am sure. This is how Jack must have felt when he looked at his giant beanstalk.

Duxbury Rural & Historical Society

When finally, I tear myself away from this green miracle, I follow Michael to what he has determined must be the entry. We are greeted by another member of the Duxbury organization’s staff, Peter Donohoe, the Visitor Services Coordinator.

Once again, I am floored by the depth and breadth of his knowledge. I am not sure if we get a private tour because of the pertinent questions my knowledgeable husband asks (It sure isn’t my first question of—“How old are those holly trees?”), or if it is the SOP of the organization. For whatever reason it may be, I am grateful, and Michael continues to add to his seafaring knowledge, for this is a house that the shipbuilder built. And his shipbuilding business was across from this house, on the bay.

Ezra Weston II

Built in 1809, this Federal style mansion was the home of Ezra Weston II, recognized as the largest shipowner of his time by Lloyds of London. Apparently, he was called “King Caesar,” not because he was descended from royalty, but because of his attitude and entrepreneurial success. Weston presided over the largest mercantile enterprise on the South Shore of Massachusetts in its day, operating a large fleet of merchant vessels, a ten-acre shipyard, a farm, a ropewalk, a sailcloth mill, and a large work force of sailors, carpenters and laborers. All within a stone’s throw from his house.

French Imported Wall Paper

Of course, over the years portions of the house fell into disrepair, and the wallpaper in the hallway was reproduced to look like the original. The one thing in this house that I think is spectacular, because I have never seen anything like it in any of the homes that we have toured all over the world, is the block-printed, hand-painted wall paper imported from France. Gracing the walls in both front rooms, they tell a story. This wall paper is the best conversation starter I have ever seen. And the depth of the colors, even after all of these years, is phenomenal.

Myles Standish and His Cannons

We end our Duxbury adventure at a centuries old cemetery where Myles Standish is buried, hearing about it from the archivist-historian at the Bradford House. This old cemetery is a wonder. Along with the four cannons guarding the burial place of Myles Standish, there is the crunch of autumn leaves beneath our feet. A wide variety of marvelous mosses that abound. Worn slate headstones. Golden sunlight slanting through the trees. And the trees themselves. The story of discovering Myles Standish burial place is the frothy frosting that tops it all.

I think I love Duxbury.