The Robin and the Sparrow (May 19)

“Granny’s craft was a nimble dingy twelve feet long. Its enamelled canvas skin was permanently watertight. There was no need to moor it at the dock until it “took up” in the spring. In May, Granny could go straight out for a row without waiting. This was her chance to spread her wings after a long winter in the city…

“Grandpa’s skiff was longer and more substantial. Its cedar-strip hull required time in the water to tighten its seams each May … Consequently, sunny afternoons in the early spring witnessed two contrasting scenes. Granny had no time to lose. She would be on the water hoping to glimpse trilliums, trout lilies, or other wildflowers on the shore of the marsh that ran far inland beside the Point. Grandpa, conversely, would be tucked away on the veranda. For warmth, he usually donned a beige and brown hounds-tooth jacket retired from office use …

‘Granny christened her red-breasted dingy as the Robin… If she had had her way, Grandpa’s skiff would have been officially baptized the Sparrow. But he was not convinced. The name was often used—especially by my grandmother—yet it was never inscribed on the boat itself. In that and other respects, the two of them happily not only did as they pleased but also found room to aid and abet each other.’ (Providence Point, pp. 29-30)

Overall, Granny’s and Grandpa’s relationship exemplified the freedom that the wide-open spaces of the Bay and its largely untouched landscape seemed to promise. Escaping from the city brought them a much-valued opportunity just to be themselves.

If this refreshing perspective makes you think, you can read more about it by obtaining your own copy of Providence Point. And perhaps as well, their example will make you recall other illustrations of similar wisdom from your personal experience. If so, please share that insight in the comment section below.

(Illustration generated by AI)