One of the things I loved about Natucket was the overwhelming population of sweet pups we saw while we were there. We knew what we were in for when we were in line for the ferry and we saw a dear corgi resting her (?) chin on a collapsable wagon, waiting to go up the gangplank. I just have to hope that Violet never reads this post or she'll want to travel with us next time. Once on board we didn't see that corgi again, but we did meet Maple.

As Callum, Neel and I watched Hyannis grow distant, people came out on the deck to take a peek before heading back inside where it was warmer. Maple came out with her mama, nosing around at the crisp air. We were drawn to her, of course. Who wouldn't be? Callum and I immediately leaned in to pet her, but this sweet lady was a little too curious, and maybe a little too nervous for our attention.

She was nervous, her mama explained. She didn't know what to make of the boat and every time they went back inside, Maple barked. Then there was a Brittany who got a little pushy with her. So out again Maple came. Neel and I used to joke that when we walked our first-born pup Phoebe in the park, we knew the dog's names far better than their owner's names, but we made some great friends that way. By the end of our short trip, we knew that Miss Maple, so named because she was born in Vermont, was only 14 weeks old, and she did not like the boat. I also knew that I really liked Maple's mama. Liked her in that instinctive way that you just know that you like someone. Like, I knew that we'd be friends if we lived near each other or our kids went to the same school.

They looked so sweet snuggling, and you could tell that Maple was a little uncertain about the whole adventure, I couldn't help but snap a few pictures of them out on the deck together. But I'm pretty shy when you get right down to it, so I never really introduced myself or gave her one of my cards. When I got to Megan's and we downloaded the photos, boy did I regret my reticence.

"We'll run into them, I bet," Megan said. It is a small island, after all. So every time we went out, I tucked some SPL cards in my back pocket or my camera strap, and we watched out for Maple. We looked for her at the Cold Turkey Plunge. We looked for her at the Cisco Brewery. We looked for her every time we wandered around town.

No Maple. I'd pretty much given up, but you know what? This was Nantucket, and a little tiny part of me thought how cool would it be if we were on the same ferry heading home. Nantucket is covered in magical fairy dust, you know? Those kinds of things are bound to happen. So of course you know how it ends, don't you? We wandered into a toy shop on the wharf so that Callum could find a boat to take home, and there she was. No Maple, but her mama! Of course we were on the same ferry heading out, and of course I gave her my card. I was absolutely thrilled when she emailed me (I always doubt that people are really going to want to get in touch with me, for reals), and of course she was just as delightful as I suspected. Maple's mama's name is Liza, and we've been in touch through email and Facebook, and she tells me that Maple is an Australian Shepherd. I grew up with Aussies, so I had suspected as much. That morning, as we were leaving, we'd watched Maple quite literally dig her heels in on the gangplank and refuse to get on the boat, but she tuckered out as soon as we left the dock, and everybody made it safely home.

And it turns out that Liza is a children's book author. And she wrote this. How cool is that? You can imagine that we'll be giving this gem as gifts for years to come. I love it that she's a writer, and I love it even more that I made this wonderful connection so far away from home. I harbor a little day dream of meeting again and again on the ferry. I think it would be nice to watch Maple grow up.

And I wonder if we're going to have to take the other dogs someday too.

One of the things that Neel and I bemoan about living here in Norfolk is the lack of wide-open walking spaces. My Friday hikes that I take with my friend Tracy are wonderful, but they are, admittedly, a haul from home. We've been planning for the past several Sundays to get out there for a family hike and have yet to stir ourselves. On our heads be it. No excuses, really, just the distance. We really need to pull it together.

If I lived in Nantucket, I would do the Bluff Walk in Sconset every day, I think (as long as it wasn't raining sideways, of course!). Siasconset, or Sconset is a village on the eastern end of the island, about eight miles from Nantucket proper. The village was originally an outpost of small fishing shacks, built to house fishermen during the cod season, which fell in the spring and again in the fall. Eventually the fishing shacks, which were originally one-room, dirt floor dwellings with cooking done in the open air, were winterized and expanded as more and more fishermen began to live in them year round. Because building is hard, even today, on an island (Let me think how many times we have to run to The Home Depot during any given reno project!), additions to the shacks were made using bits and pieces found on the island (sometimes from wrecked ships). Many of these cottages still stand today, and when you see picture of a quintessential rose-covered Nantucket cottage, you're likely seeing a house in Sconset.

You can reach Sconset by bus, car or bike (80 miles of bike paths traverse the island), and the village itself has all the basic necessities: post office, church, shops, restaurants. It is very much a summer community, however, pleasantly away from the bustle of Nantucket proper, but the place clears out almost completely after Labor Day. It was practically a ghost town when we were there.

We took a walk on Thanksgiving. Jon stayed behind to tend the turkey, but Megan piled all of us and the kids into the car and drove us the short trip to the villiage. Walking the bluff is essentially walking in someone's backyard. The path we were on wound along the sea, offering glimpses of the sweeping Atlantic on one side and quaint, rambling cottages on the other. The sea is winning. The ocean is eating away at the bluff, so that once wide back yards are creeping closer to the beach. Someday all of Nantucket will slip back into the ocean, and nowhere is this more evident than in Sconset.

We walked...north I guess, with the ocean on our right... along the path. The view was breathtaking, perched as we were above the sea. I wondered if this was what it felt like to walk along the beaches of Scotland or Cornwall maybe. A thready path worn among the grass, the scrubby cliff falling away beside me. Everyone wandered up ahead, and of course I lingered behind, camera at my side. Megan put it to a vote. Did we want to walk all the way to the light house or go down now and back along the beach? I was intrigued by the light, but I lost. We were getting ready for dinner, I suppose. The steps are private, but in the winter it must not matter as much. The beach walk was stunningly beautiful, with coarse sand that made it a bit of a hard go. By the time we got back to the village, the sun was slipping down.

Time to go.

meeting maple {life}

bluff walk {life}