
............................................................ We visited this spring, on this misty warm grey Atlantic day, before the hillside and the gardens had leafed out from under winter crushing of autumn's dun brown, leaving leaves crisp tans and chocolate damp. These late spring blankets were pierced through with bright green spears topped in bobbing, hopping, yellow crests of dancing daffodils, clusters of breeze bouncing pale green springs lean dripping blue cilla blossoms creep elsewhere ...
.............................................................I sat on a moss covered trunk, its top was polka dotted with a mantle of hard like little clamshells, all crusty white and creamy scattering of mushrooms, right at the spot I could get the first 'look' of the house you see upon turning into Milli's driveway.


cleft holds the last flood tide's rush up granite ledge to pour it full.
from this watercolor of the old bridge to Whitehead Rock