Rockport well deserves its name--
several little rocky harbors
protected by a break water.
The houses at Rockport village
backing directly on the beach.
HDT Journal, September 23, 1858
Despite being up for an hour conversing with the Moon last night, I awoke promptly just before dawn. At sunrise here, the sun beams right onto your pillow!
It’s only a short walk to town proper and a good breakfast.
Past the quiet inner harbor.
Then it’s up to the Headlands -- to look out to sea,
and glance back at the village of Rockport.
Eider ducks were ready for a break,
while lobstermen were just beginning a day's work.
Today Mom and Dennis went their own ways, while Jackie and I visited Halibut Point State Park.
It’s a former quarry, which must have been a noisy, steamy place in its heyday.
Now it is home to many interesting trails, and only the sound of the sea remains.
Near the Visitor Center, there are sculptures made from hunks of granite that were formerly cast aside.
We called this one "UTI Man," for reasons of our own.
We looked forward to botanizing in a new type of environment, so we headed out on the trail that circles the deep quarry-lake.
Right away, Jackie found a grass she had been searching for – here she is getting up close to it.
Her eyesight may be weakening, but her Vision certainly is not.
(As one can see by visiting her beautiful blog.)
A few steps away were some Ladies’ Tresses,
(the Nodding variety, according to Newcomb’s.)
Meanwhile I was off chasing butterflies -
cabbage whites and yellow sulphurs were everywhere.
Among the goldenrods, still in hearty bloom here, I saw an equally hearty bee - a Neanderthal version of our little bumblebees. It was much larger, with thick hairy legs and a bald spot on the back – the Eastern Carpenter Bee.
Roses were long-past, but the bristly hips were pretty in their own way.
At an overlook, we met some visitors from Great Britain, who were botanizing, too.
We turned onto a trail that led down through
To the sea.
I thought I espied our British acquaintances, lolling on the rocks like contented seals, watching the tide come in.
That seemed like a great idea. So we took pause to look out over the endless sea, as we sat among giant slabs of granite.
Here we are, at the farthest tip of Cape Ann herself !
To paraphrase Thoreau in Cape Cod:
A woman can stand there
and put all of America behind her.