Our routine was strictly adhered to, so as not to make extra work for whoever would be caring for us at the time. Our meals and bedtime hours were carried out by the old mantle clock

and seldom did we need the old oil lamp to go to bed by. Living within a stone’s throw of the water, we could hear the

rippling of the waves hitting the shore as we lay in our feather beds at night. The sound at times was like a quiet lullaby, and

soon we children would be fast asleep. In the fall of the year it was a much different sound, with the

howling winds and sea storms, that would awaken us in sheer fright. It was during those times that father would quiet us down,

telling us it would soon be over. When the cold and frosty months set in all would be silent,

with our family being the only one at the fishing harbor. We would go out and see the fishing boats, beached high, surrounded by large masses of ice. The snow looked like mountains, that would never disappear. The lobster traps Would be neatly piled around the fish buildings and lobster cannery, for protection from the ice and snow. They seemed to be peeking out just waiting for springtime to come. This quiet setting would

have made a beautiful touch for an artist’s brush. The sun at times would protrude a glitter of diamonds in

the fresh fallen snow, causing our eyes to squint and weep, from all of it’s brightness and beauty It was such a peaceful feeling that we would just stand and stare, before playing around in it. Even though our winters were colder around the harbor, we loved living there as children.

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