So we raised our anchor, shook out sail

And yesterday was simply a beautiful day. Having determined that we badly needed to do something with the sea before the weather reverted from mock-June to mock-November, fleurdelis28 and her sister and I spent the afternoon in Rockport, climbing around Halibut Point State Park—a surrealist's beachful of huge red granite boulders, jostled and tumbled every which way like alphabet blocks, and the abandoned, flooded quarry many of them came from—and exploring old cemeteries. Nobody had a camera, of course, but the tide was coming in streaked-glass green and by the late afternoon there was a mackerel sky in white and blue overhead. We talked about the Titanic. We found a lot of wrecked lobster traps. I am almost positive the four birds we saw bobbing around the rocks were harlequin ducks. And I came home and almost immediately went out again for John Ford's How Green Was My Valley (1941) at the Harvard Film Archive, which I think marks the end of the series. Today I will almost certainly get rained on, but I prefer walking places to not.