The road developed curves, and if more narrow than the Ohio Turnpike, it was much more interesting to drive...and we had listened to the 44 Scotland series of Alexander McCall Smith, the adventures of Bertie and Bruce and Dominica, and Ulysses and so many others. It is like signing up for a course in community awareness.
So we left behind those massive factories of high fructose corn syrup and climbed and descended into lush green forests and fields. Narrow valleys. Former mining towns. Now quiet. 16 percent of the houses in the town where we stayed for the night were "abandoned." Not foreclosed, not for rent, not vacation second homes. Just abandoned.
But then there is always something amazing. Like the sunset as seen over this valley of so many abandoned dwellings. The way the ski lights turned on, then red, then yellow, then just dark shades of themselves.
So yesterday we arrived, three blocks from Narragassett Bay, at the home of Ingrid, Geoff, Freya, two cats, and about to be joined by a new child, still clinging to the inside of Ingrid's womb. The living room is grey and populated with bright red sofas, a large cadenza holds a tv, now thankfully off, paintings line the walls, an easy chair waits for me. Home, this home away from home. BlogPress from my iPad
Location:Cranston, Rhode Island
