Each morning we rise, I have my oatmeal and green tea, and then we set out for the forest. First, though, we drive by the Kennedy Compound, where much of America’s Camelot occurred; stop at Craigville Beach to watch the sun rise out of the Atlantic; pass through the Norman Rockwell-quaint village of Centerville; and by two cranberry bogs. Our morning walks are always are the heart of our days. How blessed we are to walk through the twisted scrub pine and scrub oak over gentle woodland trails.
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