A few weeks back — seems like a lifetime ago — I took one of my usual bike rides around Ocean Drive. When I have time, I like to take a detour into and around Fort Adams. On this particular day, I had time ...
I don't know much about Fort Adams, except that it was built after the War of 1812 but never needed to be employed, i.e., no one has fired a single shot from this spot in defense of Narragansett Bay. It is employed in other ways: hosting the jazz and folk festivals, housing Sail Newport. Then there's the Navy housing. And the Museum of Yachting. If perchance Newport gets to host the America's Cup again, there's a plan afoot to make Fort Adams (potentially) the center-of-it-all, in terms of where boats and teams could be headquartered.
In any case, after I rode my bike in-and-along, then around-and-along, then along-and-up, and finally down the hill around Eisenhower House back toward the anchored entranceway, I saw something: animals. Baby animals. There's just something about baby animals ...
But such a stern warning not to feed them! I understand, I suppose. People could feed them the wrong things, make them sick, or friendly, or greedy, even bold, even dangerous. (Could that happen??) I mean, really, what's the danger??
One last thing: In the most miraculous of pre-Mothers' Day happenings, even though this borders on personal, Grandma Betty (i.e., my mom) had a baby. A puppy! It/she/Daisy was born last week (to her canine mother, obviously) and will be coming home in June ...
