After selling our enormous Victorian in Marshfield Hills, Massachusetts, we made the big move across the North River Bridge, a couple of miles away to a tiny house right off the main drag of Scituate Harbor. It was really my idea.
Maybe it’s a nod to my City Girl Self – the one who would leave her apartment on the Upper West Side on a Saturday morning and spend the day roaming Manhattan, perhaps stopping to take a nap on the Great Lawn in Central Park. Everything right under my nose!I loved it.
Harbor life is kind of like that – on a fractional scale. During our summers, Boo and I walk down to the waterfront every afternoon to watch the fishing boats come in and load their catch onto the market trucks. There is something so fundamental about it. The easy comradery of the fishermen, washing down their decks, laughing or complaining depending upon the success of the day.
We don’t have to leave the Village very often, if we don’t want to. There’s a well stocked hardware store, TWO nail salons, spas, an acupuncterist, chiropractor, dentist, dog boutique, gourmet restauarants, great Chinese takeout, pizza and sub shops, ice cream for late night cravings, as well as Mullaney’s Fish Market – they do have the freshest fish (and why not?). There’s even a multi-screen, state of the art movie theatre. Art galleries, toy store, gift shops, music store, dance studio…. honestly! All in less than a mile stretch. And, of course, there’s the beach only ½ mile away. Oh yes, and three liquor stores, plus a grocery store that sells beer and wine. We don’t want to take the chance of running dry, now do we?
And just to keep an eye on things, St. Mary’s Church, on the corner as you enter town, has Mass on Saturday nights and Sunday mornings. The Methodist Church makes its presence known every day of the week, though– at 9:00 AM, 12:00 PM and 5:00 PM, as the carillon rings out Christian hymns that can be heard throughout the Village. And, to make sure you know they have a sense of humor, it’s usually Christmas Carols – O Come All Ye Faithful, Hark the Herald Angels Sing – and occasionally Amazing Grace or Jesus Christ is Risen Today.
The Irish Riviera. That’s the nickname for this little gem, tucked along the harbor on the Coastline running from Boston to Cape Cod. It’s the place the TV stations send their reporters to cover nor’easters and hurricanes when they find their way to the Boston area. You’ll see them out on the jetty, or by the Lighthouse, yelling into their microphones while the wind, rain, snow, sleet, and surf just beat the hell out of them. But, in the Summer – ah. It’s all about the ocean breezes, the sailboats’ halyards clanging on their moorings, having lunch at the Mill Wharf, looking out at the sparkling sea. One tends to forget winter – for a while.