Simply Askew in Annisquam

Most would never any know that the memorial exists as they zip by up above on the roadway. A small set of steps leads down the hill towards the Annisquam River and there, nestled amongst the trees is this memorial.

The season on this side of Gloucester is still very quiet.
The solitude down by the river must be playing tricks.
Something is just not right here.

It's difficult to put my finger on it. Can you?

How about in this picture. What could be askew?

I suppose, it all depends upon the way you look at it.

Sometimes, it helps to step back and
look at things from a different point of view.

Even now, it's difficult to see which one is correct.
Scroll up and compare them.

Simply Askew in Annisquam

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Simply Passing Through

The Cut Bridge opens up just after high tide.

Three powerboats wait in Gloucester Harbor.

Boats coming down the Annisquam River have rights.

First boat through is Stephen Hall's Columbine out of Manchester.

Nice and smooth. Barely a ripple.

Dog Star is up next pushing against the current.

It can be a fine line between not using enough
power to push through the current and too much
leaving a mess for the boats following you.

Dog Star did it well.
Not too much slop left behind.

Surf Rider is next in line.

Looks like they named this boat right!

Churned things up quite a bit.

Now the Grady White comes through and not only has
to fight the current but also now has to contend
with rolling waves left behind Surf Rider!

Need a quick, last minute correction and then the Grady is through.

Simply Passing Through

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Simply Blynman

The Blynman Bridge, a.k.a. the Cut Bridge is raised and lowered to
allow boats to go between the Annisquam River and Gloucester Harbor.

The red lights flash on, the siren screams, the gates swing across the boulevard, the gears grind, and the jaws of the drawbridge crack open to let a fishing dragger through. For a few minutes Gloucester is almost an island.

-- The Gloucester Guide by Joseph Garland

The gears are moving again. The bridge is coming down.

thecutbridge.com has a live webcam of the Blynman Bridge in operation.

It's almost done. Soon, the gates will rise and the cars will begin crossing.

Then the jaws descend and shut with a toothsome click, the gates swing clear, and the line of summer traffic drones across again, always with that urgency: can we make it before the next one shuts us off?

-- The Gloucester Guide by Joseph Garland

Simply Blynman

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Simply Eye Candy

Before the rain started this week, there was a chance to snap a few pictures of a spot most just zip past. These shots were taken of the Annisquam River / Little River (not sure where one part stops and the other begins!) behind Nichols Candy in Gloucester.

Nichols Candy opened in this location next to
the A. Piatt Andrew Bridge in 1954!

Simply Eye Candy

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Simply Marsh House

A house on the Annisquam River in the salt marsh near Gloucester Marina.

There was a child went forth every day
written by Walt Wnitman

There was a child went forth every day,
And the first object he looked upon and received with wonder or pity or love or dread, that object he became,
And that object became part of him for the day or a certain part of the day… or for many years or stretching cycles of years.

The early lilacs became part of this child,
And grass, and white and red morningglories, and white and red clover, and the song of the phoebe-bird,
And the March-born lambs, and the sow's pink-faint litter, and the mare's foal, and the cow's calf, and the noisy brood of the barnyard or by the mire of the pond-side… and the fish suspending themselves so curiously below there… and the beautiful curious liquid… and the water-plants with their graceful flat heads… all became part of him.

And the field-sprouts of April and May became part of him… wintergrain sprouts, and those of the light-yellow corn, and of the esculent roots of the garden,
And the appletrees covered with blossoms, and the fruit afterward… and woodberries… and the commonest weeds by the road;
And the old drunkard staggering home from the outhouse of the tavern whence he had lately risen,
And the schoolmistress that passed on her way to the school… and the friendly boys that passed… and the quarrelsome boys… and the tidy and freshcheeked girls… and the barefoot negro boy and girl,
And all the changes of city and country wherever he went.

His own parents… he that had propelled the fatherstuff at night, and fathered him… and she that conceived him in her womb and birthed him… they gave this child more of themselves than that,
They gave him afterward every day… they and of them became part of him.

The mother at home quietly placing the dishes on the suppertable,
The mother with mild words… clean her cap and gown… a wholesome odor falling off her person and clothes as she walks by:
The father, strong, selfsufficient, manly, mean, angered, unjust,
The blow, the quick loud word, the tight bargain, the crafty lure,
The family usages, the language, the company, the furniture… the yearning and swelling heart,
Affection that will not be gainsayed… The sense of what is real… the thought if after all it should prove unreal,
The doubts of daytime and the doubts of nighttime… the curious whether and how,
Whether that which appears so is so… Or is it all flashes and specks?
Men and women crowding fast in the streets… if they are not flashes and specks what are they?
The streets themselves, and the facades of houses… the goods in the windows,
Vehicles… teams… the tiered wharves, and the huge crossing at the ferries;
The village on the highland seen from afar at sunset… the river between,
Shadows… aureola and mist… light falling on roofs and gables of white or brown, three miles off,
The schooner near by sleepily dropping down the tide… the little boat slacktowed astern,
The hurrying tumbling waves and quickbroken crests and slapping;
The strata of colored clouds… the long bar of maroontint away solitary by itself… the spread of purity it lies motionless in,
The horizon's edge, the flying seacrow, the fragrance of saltmarsh and shoremud;
These became part of that child who went forth every day, and who now goes and will always go forth every day,
And these become of him or her that peruses them now.

Simply Marsh House

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Simple Annisquam

It's that time again. A melancholy time. We took the last boat ride of the season up the Annisquam River on Saturday. Add to that the Red Sox loss on Sunday and all are thinking "wait 'til next year".

Simply Annisquam

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Simply Sunny Day?

It was a perfect day for a boat ride down the Annisquam. Or so we thought!
Being midweek, the river was empty.

Three boats tied up side by side.

Even the yacht club was quiet.

Looks like the clouds are building.

Naturally, the "isolated showers" found us!

Simply Sunny Day?

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Simply Day's End

What a perfect week for taking the boat out in the early evening. You get a little bit of cooling while on the water, the "crazy boaters" have left for the day, and most people you see are into relaxation mode.

A familiar water landmark --- Frog Rock.

All of these boats are tied up for the night.

A small red boat steaming down the Annisquam.

A tandem kayak zipping by. I saw them too late to focus better.

Relaxing on the porch. A perfect end to the day.

It's getting close. The sun is starting to set.

Annisquam Light just before sunset.

Simply Day's End

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Simply Sight Seeing

We took a small trip down the Annisquam River on Sunday afternoon. This boat had many wondering if it would fit through the train bridge!

We followed this small sailboat as it bobbed and weaved down the channel.

A glimpse of the A. Piatt Andrew bridge on the way back to the marina.

Simply Sight Seeing

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Simply One More Boat Ride

A late summer boat ride down the Annisquam is a perfect way to spend a Sunday afternoon. It can also make one a little melancholy as you realize how quickly the boating season is coming to an end.

You can find some people just out sitting in their boats, possibly thinking about all the great sails they had this year.

Some boaters are rafting up, just one more time.

Some people are enjoying possibly the last swim of the year.

Look at all the empty docks. The shrink-wrappers must be busy.

Sure is pretty out here. The leaves will be turning colors soon.

Daydreaming off the bow. One last look.

It's okay! We're having a great time!

And the dog is happy too!

Just a few pictures of Annisquam Light.

We call this the "Would Be Nice" house. Every time we pass it, someone on the boat will say "It would be nice to live there".

One more rooster tail.

A picture for Joey at Good Morning Gloucester. It's a Homie Convention!

Simply one more boat ride. (Well, maybe one more.....)

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