This used to be a church.  Now it’s a private home with one heck of a view.  The steeple must always be painted white, because it is a navigational landmark.  It sits on what used-to-be the main road from Boston to Philadelphia.  George Washington rode on this road.

This used to be a falling-down wreck.  These folks performed miracles.  George Washington always knew it had potential.

This has always been a farm. Since the 17th century. The farmers used to drive their carts to the beach to load up with seaweed, an excellent fertilizer.  George Washington rested under this tree.

I love this house. It was for sale when Banjo Man and I were first married. We would have had to live like Pilgrims while we renovated it, and our renovating skills are almost nonexistent. But we were tempted, for about an hour, until we realized how much we liked heat and running water.  George Washington would have agreed with us.

Here are corn fields stretching to the ocean.  The stalks will be “as high as an elephant’s eye” in August.  At least, that’s what George Washington tells me.