Mid-Summer Haze

“Before reaching the bay side of Popponesset Spit, Clifford would excitedly jump off the boat and into the water before we landed. We would grab a line, pull the boat far up onto the sandy shore, and bury the anchor. Then, we three would begin our trek eastward and, eventually, meet the channel, then continue around to the Nantucket Sound side of the spit. I would often find myself standing in the middle of a dune, facing eastward on the high, silvery-green dune grasses, my arms spread wide open, and exclaiming to the world, MINE!”—by Meredith d’Ambrosio

The Disappearing Land

By Meredith d’Ambrosio

DUXBURY Massachusetts—(Weekly Hubris)—8/18/2014—Haydn and I would sail the daysailer from our Daniels Island cottage on the Ockway Bay side of the island, our Chocolate Lab, Clifford Brown, at the prow: he had a great sense of balance as he stood against the wind. At the northern point of the island, we would maneuver the boat into Popponesset Bay, a large salt water bay where, if we were not careful, we would often run into shallow water. Haydn knew how to speed along, the changing wind currents carrying the boat swiftly. I was amused as he became so entranced that he was suddenly transformed into Toad from The Wind In The Willows. He entrusted me with the job of first mate. Before reaching the bay side of Popponesset Spit, Clifford would excitedly jump off the boat and into the water before we landed. We would grab a line, pull the boat far up onto the sandy shore, and bury the anchor. Then, we three would begin our trek eastward and, eventually, meet the channel, then continue around to the Nantucket Sound side of the spit. I would often find myself standing in the middle of a dune, facing eastward on the high silvery-green dune grasses, my arms spread wide open, and exclaiming to the world, “MINE!”

On the way to our Daniels Island cottage, the first road on the right is made up of deep puddles caused by the tidal spillover of Popponesset Bay. This short road is the only access on the island which leads to a boat landing where, at the end of each summer season, dinghies and sail boats are stored in a pile on the high sea grasses. Most days, the bumpy road is flooded with salt water. In the distance, Cotuit trees border the bay. Every year, a few more boats are added to the pile of overturned boats. Soon, there will be no room for more to be stored. When we returned to the island every mid-spring, the boats had somehow remained here, undisturbed during the rough stormy winter.

Every two weeks during the summer of 1974, my friend Jason and I would drive to Bay Point, Maine, a small fishing village near the ship-fitting town of Bath. We bunked in a small house overlooking the bay. At 10:30 a.m., as I painted this oil, the dark clouds foretold a storm a-brewing. I captured a gull about to light upon a roof. The painting was sold the next day to a neighbor.

Note: Meredith d’Ambrosio’s exhibition of paintings entitled “Landscapes Of The North Countries” will run from Sunday, November 15, 2015 through Sunday, February 14, 2016 at the Art Complex of Duxbury, Massachusetts, 189 Alden Street, Duxbury MA; daily opening times, 1 till 4 p.m., Wednesday through Sunday; Monday and Tuesday, closed. The opening reception will be held on Sunday, November 15, 2015, 1:30 to 3:30 p.m.; Ms. d’Ambrosio will give a concert, accompanied by Chris Taylor on piano.