Textures to die for on Long Wharf. The bluest of skies.
A late afternoon walk on a rocky spit prompted a short memoir piece about having tough feet as a kid (we went barefoot all summer long). I plan to type and share.
Branches like muscles. 
We toured the Hunter House (from Newport’s Golden Age) and The Elms (from the Gilded Age). Quite a contrast. Tomorrow I’ll post some pictures — though not many of the former because photography wasn’t allowed inside.
Metal like lace.
Fortunately for you, the smells of the wharf are not transmitted. Wow. Was it ripe! Didn’t stop us from enjoying fresh oysters for dinner.
The smell was the first thing I thought of! Those nets and metal lace just call out to me to weave them! And … oh my that water! Looks like you had a lovely day.
Yeah the smell was really fishy/gross. But the sky and water and sites were great.
had to look up where you are, had forgotten where Rhode Island is!