Cornflower, Queen Anne's Lace, Wild Larkspur, Verigated Ivy, Fern, Rasberries (not ready, I tested), wild yellow Sweet Peas, Laurel and Mullberry. These are the flowers, plants and trees along the Salem Bike trail that runs from Salem to Marblehead. I ran to the middle of town to catch the bike trail, which was paved, then crosses 1A/114 and turns to gravel. It's a good leg of Nagshead Bay, and then carries on behind dove grey wooden shingled houses, with white clapboard windows, on Nagshead. The foiliage is amazing. People's yards are filled with the most obscene color and lushness. Huge Hydrangia, Flox of every color, and huge Tiger and Day Lilies for heaven's sake. The yards are so fragrant, and effortlessly green. I ran down Pleasant Street, where the sidewalks are made of brick and the shops are tiny with huge windows. I passed Three Cod Tavern, the Gut and Feather club (a badmitton club), the Chowder House (pronouced Chawdah) and a Talbots, situated across the street from a 7-11. But this 7-11 has a tiny sign above the door, and sits unobtrusively into adorable space between specialty shops, antique, and art stores. I ran up Washington, past the Muffin Man. If you think Mormon's are proud of their grandchildren, come to Marblehead where all the Jewish Grandparents talk loudly outside the muffin shop in their New York and Boston accents about how 'Adourable and Smahrt" their little grandbabies are. They walk around town with their grandchildren in $7,000 prams while their children (who came up from the city to visit mom and pop's vacation home) luxuriously sleep in after making all that hard-earned money. I ran past the town hall where the painting "Spirit of '76" is housed, and up to the cemetary to visit my favorite grave "Abagail Goodfellow." I love her epitaph "As you are now, so once was I." She died at 21 giving birth in 1794, and is buried next her daughter, who died 12 years later. I stood at the top of the hill and observed the Boston Skyline at a distance, and then ran back to Salem. I always have to remind myself, that had I lived in Salem as a Puritan, I probably would have been one of those women burned at the stake for witchcraft-- mostly just for talking too much and not knowing when to keep my opinion to myself. The trail felt good under my feet on the way back. I ended my run by taking off my running shoes and diving into the water at the little beach at the end of Ocean Drive, just behind the docks.
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