While making the rounds to my favorite North Shore towns, I saw a number of birds. Not as many as I thought I might, but some interesting poses all the same. 
My trip to the North Shore on Saturday was inspiring and refreshing. I stopped in a number of towns, each for a different reason. I shared yesterday how Gloucester seemed to mirror Jane Austen's Lyme for me this time. My last stop before going back home was Rockport, home to the famous Motif #1, beloved ov artists and photographers alike. Here's why:
I went on a huge Jane Austen kick this week- end, watching no fewer than three different versions of Persuasion and the Emma Thompson version of Sense & Sensibility with Thompson's comments and the second half of the Colin Firth Pride and Prejudice as well as Becoming Jane Austen. 
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The rocky ledge runs far into the sea,
and on its outer point, some miles away,
the lighthouse lifts its massive masonry,
A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day.
Even at this distance I can see the tides,
Upheaving, break unheard along its base,
A speechless wrath, that rises and subsides
in the white tip and tremor of the face.
And as the evening darkens, lo! how bright,
through the deep purple of the twilight air,
Beams forth the sudden radiance of its light
with strange, unearthly splendor in the glare!
And perilous reef along the ocean's verge,
Starts into life a dim, gigantic shape,
Holding its lantern o'er the restless surge.
Like the great giant Christopher it stands
Upon the brink of the tempestuous wave,
Wading far out among the rocks and sands,
The night o'er taken mariner to save.
And the great ships sail outward and return
Bending and bowing o'er the billowy swells,
And ever joyful, as the see it burn,
they wave their silent welcome and farewells.
They come forth from the darkness, and their sails
Gleam for a moment only in the blaze,
And eager faces, as the light unveils
Gaze at the tower, and vanish while they gaze.
on his first voyage, he saw it fade and sink
And when returning from adventures wild,
He saw it rise again o'er ocean's brink.
Steadfast, serene, immovable, the same,
Year after year, through all the silent night
Burns on forevermore that quenchless flame,
Shines on that inextinguishable light!
It sees the ocean to its bosom clasp
The rocks and sea-sand with the kiss of peace:
It sees the wild winds lift it in their grasp,
And hold it up, and shake it like a fleece.
The startled waves leap over it; the storm
Smites it with all the scourges of the rain,
And steadily against its solid form
press the great shoulders of the hurricane.
The sea-bird wheeling round it, with the din of wings and winds and solitary cries,
Blinded and maddened by the light within,
Dashes himself against the glare, and dies.
A new Prometheus, chained upon the rock,
Still grasping in his hand the fire of love,
it does not hear the cry, nor heed the shock,
but hails the mariner with words of love.
"Sail on!" it says: "sail on, ye stately ships!
And with your floating bridge the ocean span;
Be mine to guard this light from all eclipse.
Be yours to bring man neared unto man.
Photos taken yesterday at Portland headlight, the lighthouse that inspired this poem. It is said that Henry W. Longfellow used to walk from the city of Portland out to this lighthouse to visit his friends, the lighthouse keepers.
Plum Island in the fall sees a number of migrators come its way. Today, there were dozens of Monarch butterflies. I thought it was pretty cool. I could not catch any with their wings open, though (except when they were flying, of course). Still beautiful...
This day couldn't have been more opposite to last Sunday when it was dark and stormy. Today was beautiful...cloudy, but bright and breezy and begging for a ride to the north shore. Unable to resist, I hopped in my car after lunch and waited to see where I'd end up.
I really had no plan, but the farther I went, the more it became clear that I was going to Plum Island in Newbury/Newburyport, MA, along the coast. I opted off the highway as soon as I could and wended my way through small towns until I reached the Plum Island National Wildlife Refuge, as stretch of more than 6 miles between the ocean and a salt marsh. It's beautiful. And here's the evidence:
They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters; These see the works of the LORD, and his wonders in the deep. For he commandeth, and raiseth the stormy wind, which lifteth up the waves thereof. They mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths: their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wits' end. Then they cry unto the LORD in their trouble, and he bringeth them out of their distresses. He maketh the storm a calm, so that the waves thereof are still. Then are they glad because they be quiet; so he bringeth them unto their desired haven.
I had an afternoon to myself today, so I decided to drive up the coast to see what water fowl I could find. It had snowed much of the night and was still precipitating off and on. But it was relatively warm (39 degrees) and calm, just enough weather to make it interesting, but not dangerous to drive in.
I first went to the nearby body of water, Lake Quannap- owitt in Wakefield, just a few miles from my house, and down the hill from my sister's, where I was for lunch today. I thought I might find some geese or something, but the only living thing I found there was a group of sea gulls resting on the ice.
From there, I drove north to Manches- ter-by- the-Sea (don't you love that name?!) and drove along the ocean, watching for signs of life. A pretty cove caught my eye, so I stopped to look at the waves when all of a sudden a dozen or more mallards swarmed me overhead and landed along the water's edge. They immediately started feeding, scrambling along the rocky beach, coming right up to me at one point.
Suddenly, some Canadian geese flew overhead, calling out, and the whole mallard flock flew up to join the geese. They flew round and round the area for a few minutes, then the geese flew off and the mallards came back to where they'd been feeing before. It was very interesting and beautiful to watch. I wish I'd had a camera with video to capture them.
Continuing on my journey north, I found myself in Magnolia (another beautiful name for a town!), again driving along the shore. This time, I found gulls at a family favorite picnic spot. Often on Saturday afternoons when we were growing up, our family would pile in the car or van and drive up to this spot, park, and enjoy a picnic lunch and afternoon of reading or playing games. I didn't eat or play games here, but I did drink in the rugged beauty of water crashing on shoreline rocks.
Next, I made my way to Gloucester, the famous fishing and lobstering town. I stopped to take a picture of the major landmark of the town, the Gloucester Fisherman with the lines Psalms 107 on it: "They that go do to the sea in ships." I'll do another post on that, but for the purposes of this entry want to stick to the birds I saw.
Dozens and dozens of sea gulls of all sizes, shapes, and colors; in the water, on pilings in the water, and on the fence along the water's edge. They let me come quite close to them, which was cool.
I walked until I got too cold, especially my camera hand. I couldn't help wondering how these gulls could sit for hours on the metal piping or floating in the frigid water without finding it unbearable! Something tells me their bodies react to cold much differently than mine does!
