Despite our shoreline location, the main streets in my town do not afford water views. Landlocked, only the roadside salt marshes and seagulls give hint to the beauty that lies mere miles from the commercial heartbeat of this bustling little town.
But friends are visiting this week from Texas and staying at a lovely bed and breakfast around the corner from my house—miles from the busy-ness that travels those main streets.
“There’s a fire in the fireplace and coffee,” they called over yesterday morning, while a relentless rain played percussion on the roof. “Come join us.”
Resisting the urge to bring along the laptop and cell phone for some remote-location productivity, I tossed a couple books and a notebook into my purse and trekked a mile down the road.
The fire crackled its welcome as I shook off my umbrella and removed my shoes. I fixed a cup of Earl Grey (hot) and placed two homemade Snickerdoodles on a napkin, then made my way to an antique wooden rocker, feet propped up on the coffee table.
As my friends finished their own remote interactions, three walls of windows provided me gracious views out over the wrap-around porch to the cove and Long Island Sound in the distance. Stormy waves crashed on rocks and sea gulls banked against the winds that moved effortlessly through a grove of pine trees.
I sat there—I sat still—for more than two hours, reading a book, chiming in to random conversations, sipping hot tea by the fire. It could have been Maine—it was my own backyard.
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For more on this sweet B&B, visit the Kelsey House website.