Son of Erie Canal

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This spring Sandy thought that I should extend the canoe launch dock behind the casita. I waited until November first, which turned out to be a seventy-degree day, partly sunny and no mosquitos

 We have had very little rain. October was the sixth driest ever on the South Shore. Normally the water goes up to the original dock but never over it. The water source comes from some ponds miles away off Temple Street in Duxbury. The streams west of us flow into the South River.

Although from our casa it looks like a one-mile long pond, in actuality it is the Green Harbor River. Years ago the Garretsons on Route 3A, Moraine Street, dammed it up to fill their cranberry bogs. It is called Green Harbor River because after winding through the Green Harbor Golf Course under Webster Street it ends up in the Atlantico in Green Harbor. Green's Harbour being named for the very first resident of Marshfield. William Green was the first mate off a ship named the Mayflower who built a cod salting business here on the point in 1621.

When the rain and snow comes, our canal will fill and be around four or five feet deep. That will be enough to get our canoes to the pond or when it freezes, a nice walkway to go out and ice skate. Yah! You can fish also.

© Chris Bernstein/CDB Photos

This is Chris's aerial photo, taken before construction of the canal. The gunite swimming pool was completed in 1978. To the left you can see all of the Elricks’ house. They were already here 41 years ago when we built our original house. You almost can't see Garage Mahal, built in 2004. You cannot see the Tea House (1972) or Cabana (1978), the screened-in hammica room (2013) or even the Casita (2001). The Egans built the house to the right in 1980. They are long gone, to Pennsylvania, but are coming up for Thanksgiving. Dead center towards the bottom of the photo is a large green pine tree. To the right of it is the original dock. I can see it but you probably can't.

I sit out here at the end of my day to watch the sunset. You can only see one other house. There is no traffic noise. We are thirty miles from the Cape Cod Canal and the same from Fenway Park. On a windless night you can hear the Fenway Faithful when Big Papi launches one to right field. 

Come over and listen if you don't believe me. You get the feeling that you are in Vermont or New Hampshire. You hear only ducks and birds and coyotes and frogs and peepers. Early one morning this summer I heard a deer bellowing.

Our Grandson Abel is going to love the new construction.