But then you arrive in a different world. Walking to the village coffee shop in the morning, you pass Dr. Carpenter's house (1720) and other reminders that Rodger Williams and his followers settled the area in the 1660s. They had been thrown out of Puritanical Boston...the descendents of those moral guardians now rule in Colorado Springs. The town celebrates an annual festival when the local militia burned "the hated English revenue schooner," HMS Gaspree in 1772...I guess the British must of thought of them as terrorists.
So there is this depth of time along the East Coast...from a period long before Colorado was picked up as part of the Louisian Purchase (at least the part that was north of the Arkansas River)...and that time is reflected in the architecture, the way of life. Though the way of life has changed: Pawtuxet was a small harbour, then a mill town, then a resort, now a small collection of wine bars, restaurants, and occasional farmer's markets placed wedged by the river between two younger suburban towns. But what is impressive, so impressive for someone from the West is water, water, water everywhere. I have as much guilt about letting the water run when I brush my teeth as do the swans, gathering in the lee of a jetty, enjoying the late fall sunshine and picking at the water weeds.
