High temps in the air yesterday were seventy-two degrees bit the surf in Dorchester Bay was as bath-like as the late spring Atlantic ever is in New England. I couldn't say it was cold. Rather, it was brisk and refreshing. It felt like home and in a month or two it won't be much warmer. It felt like the beach from the halcyon days of my youth. New England Atlantic: blue as a slab of gray steel and as welcoming as flint and puddleglum: may children forever play in your spray.
It is a far, far different and more sparkling world than that carved out by muddy Ole Man River.
At Castle Island I had a lunch of $1.60 hot dog's at Sullivan's and I walked around the fort and watched the airplanes coast down to landing across the harbor.
There are other things to do these last two weeks, but this was a pleasant thing to do to start ticking down the list.