Newburyport

Walking with ghosts

Emily Binx Hawthorne above the Merrimack River.

Stuck at Seacoast Volkswagen outside of Portsmouth, New Hampshire, for several hours while Clarence was pampered by a new set of tires, their alignment, 80-mile maintenance, and a new water pump, Samwise and Emily were exceedingly patient. It helps that the crew there welcome my friends with petting, play, treats, and much attention. Thankfully, after the third hour, we were sprung when one of their courtesy cars became free. 

We drove south to Newburyport and the trails of Moseley Pines on the western reaches of that little city where the Merrimack spills into the Atlantic. In the past, when we visited Newburyport, we haunted the downtown where I lived and published the Undertoad. We’d often walk the streets, for they were my real office. I'd see ghosts from those years that now seem a lifetime ago and often felt like a stranger in a strange land. 

But this time, we only had time for the trails, where it turns out, there were no escaping s…