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After our walk on the beach, G.’s pants were wet so she changed into shorts. This left us trying to dry her clothing in the sun on the roof of the golf cart while we had lunch…. and that required a readying hand.

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The only lunch available this time of year was at the Inn.

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It’s a grand old building…

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That seems to have new management every time we visit.

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We were the only people in the dining room which didn’t bode well.

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Kelp burger?

Hmm… no.

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Tiny flavorless rubber mussels, brightly colored but mediocre cocktails and disappointing sandwiches left us unsatisfied …

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But the view was nice.

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Another shoreline walk on Hamilton Beach…

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And then we drove by my old home.

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Old is the proper adjective because the original section of house on the right was built in 1842.

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And while the old girl still has good bones, I admit to being disappointed by the crumbling stone wall…

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The untrimmed shrubbery, overgrown lawn…

And general feeling of lackadaisical upkeep.

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When we lived here everything was neat as a pin and my father had glorious rows of red roses on the inside of the front wall. I lived here from age 14 to 20 and the place is full of memories, not to mention ghosts of those I’ve loved and lost.

They say you can’t go home again.

I guess they’re right.

😰

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