As many of you know, literature inspires me on many levels, be it my daily life at home, in business or my experiences traveling. Before I left on one of my trips to Kenya and Tanzania on behalf of Serena Hotels, a client of our boutique PR agency, I read Hemingway’s Far Hills of Africa. I decided because he was the eminent author and had grown untouchable, editors had given up putting any pen to paper. It meandered, and frankly, was dull. Much better were Isaac Dennison’s recollections.
However, on Bloglovin’ this morning, I came across this quote from Steinbeck, whose seminal Travels With Charlie, chronicles his trip across the country with his dog:
“A kind of light spread out from her. And everything changed color. And the world opened out. And a day was good to awaken to. And there were no limits to anything. And the people of the world were good and handsome. And I was not afraid any more.”
Trip to Rhode Island’s Block Island in Autumn
That is exactly how I felt recently taking a hike on Block Island in the morning in Rodman’s Hollow, one of our favorite places. After hoofing through the underbrush, and enjoying the hughs of gold, green and brown of the windswept scrubby pines and goldenrod, we came to the crashing sea below, and a big bright morning sun sparkled off the water.
Rodman’s Hollow took us along the ridge of a high cliff, and I asked my husband, “Does this look like the white cliffs of Dover,” and he said no. These are red clay, the white cliffs were, well…” I figured out what he meant. But both are laden with thousands of years of sediment clearly visible. The view down was dramatic and a bit scary, and took the breath away. Further on down were other viewing points and when I came upon a steep drop, told my husband to stay away. As an architect, he’s developed a healthy fear or heights since open floors have seen many a construction worker hurled to his death.
The pace on Block Island was very slow in early October, which we visited to celebrate my 60th birthday. Since our family had gone there for many summer vacations when the kids were growing up, we visited many of our favorite spots. Mansion Beach was at the top of the list. And, with only a few fisherman there hanging out on the beach while their lines were nipped by snappers, we listened to the waves crashing on shore.
While dozing, my husband took a walk and when I awoke a little black and white stuppa was built beside me. He said, “Lorraine, here’s your birthday present. Bring home — a few little pieces of the rock.” And I did, laying it out on our porch, to see if it will withstand the winds of winter. Now if that didn’t sound like Steinbeck, what does?