Love At First Visit: Branford Stole My Heart
My husband and I are Airbnb renters. We spend about a week to 10 days each summer in a different house in a different town along the East Coast. We have been really fortunate in our travels — we’ve stayed in comfortable homes, and have met interesting people. I think what we enjoy most is becoming part of the local community for our allotted time and experiencing life as residents, albeit temporary ones. Inevitably, I fall in love with each place we visit, suggesting to my husband that perhaps “we should retire here one day.”
When our children were young, we traveled as far as Bar Harbor, Maine, where my daughter was mesmerized by the darkness of the night sky that allowed her to see more stars in one place than she had ever imagined. For several summers in a row, we went to Rockport, Mass., a beautiful town on Cape Ann. While there, we visited nearby Hammond Castle Museum, designed and built by the prolific inventor John Hays Hammond, where my son, a soon-to-be engineering student, marveled at the ingenuity of the construction. We have also visited Point Judith and Block Island.
This year, we visited Branford, and I think, this time, I have really found my geographical soul mate.
We were enjoying our first days — ferrying around the Thimble Islands, visiting Outer Island and learning about its history from an enthusiastic volunteer, taking in a concert on the green and, of course, touring the Stony Creek Brewery, where even I, not a fan of beer, found a brew to my liking. We ate at the many and varied restaurants downtown. We spent one rainy afternoon indoors at the stunning Blackstone Memorial Library reading newspapers and admiring the art and architecture.
It was early evening of our fifth day that it happened — Cupid’s arrow found its mark, and I realized that this town was “the one.” We were at Stony Creek Beach, my husband taking pictures at the dock and chatting with a fisherman while I strolled the waterfront.
In the waning hours of the day, the sun was leisurely stretching its colors across the sky pushing aside the tranquil blue, tinting it with pink in the east while more urgent reds and yellows around the sun were blending into more subdued oranges in the west. The streaks softened into wide ribbons of color as the sun touched the horizon, spread its hues over the shimmering water, and gave way to the arrival of night. The sky was transformed to deep blues and purples ready to shine with starlight.
On the ground, in contrast to the serenity in the sky, the activity was hurried, everyone rushing to take advantage of those last minutes of the daytime. Children splashed in the water, then challenged each other to cartwheels on the sand. One little girl made sure to pet my dog before answering her mother’s call that it was time to go. A mechanic worked on a boat’s disabled motor, determined to solve the mystery before calling it a day. As it got darker, he removed the sunglasses that seemed a part of his work uniform and called out for spark plug pliers. Other boaters glanced at him as they scurried along the docks, their arms laden with provisions, no doubt grateful that their own vessels were seaworthy. Those whose plans did not include sailing settled themselves on lawn chairs with pizza and wine choosing to spend the twilight catching up on the events of their day and toasting the scene in front of them.
The rhythms of the sky, land and water fit together so harmoniously. I felt a part of something very special and deeply endearing. It was then that I realized I was completely smitten with Branford. “This is where I want to retire,” I said to my husband. He gave me a nod and a noncommittal “uh-huh” as he checked his camera settings — he’s heard that before. But this time, it’s the real thing.