Along the Delaware River

The beginning was in the early 1940’s, on the New Jersey shores of the lower Delaware River. Picture a little shack-like cottage on the outback margin of my grandparents farm.  That small cottage was surrounded by gigantic weeping willow trees, and stood about a hundred yards from the banks of the river.  The only way to reach the place was by following a deeply rutted dirt path which followed the brushy verge of the farm.  It was barely wide enough for the family Model T.  The sights and sounds, and smells of life there have pervaded all parts of my memory.  Like a lemming, I find my thoughts frequently drawn back there if a fast moving ship, engines thrumming, comes into view, or a foghorn blows, or the tang of a salt marsh tickles my nose.  History was in the making at that time, with a war going on. Rationing was a nasty reality, and money was scarce.  My formative years were spent along those muddy banks,and I developed a respect and love for that river.  Later, that love was expanded to include a young man who would become the captain of my life and our many nautical experiences together. Follow along as this story expands to include an abiding love for farm life – especially the animals – and how it developed into a life aboard shared with my husband, children and various critters while Imagesailing many briny waters. Come along and share the memories.  

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