When the layers of clapboard decay and peel upward from the foundations of 200-year-old houses, they release an olfactory bouquet that my dog cannot resist. She delights in twenty decades’ accumulation of her forebears’ pee and man-made paint and snow and salt and who knows what else. On this day, I stand idly while she visits an 1806 colonial—a perennial favorite—and then we turn the corner and I notice an historic plaque affixed to the brickface of the house next door. I stop to read, and realize my faithful friend is sitting patiently, waiting for me to finish my turn.
Arielle Gronner works in performing arts management, volunteers for a local charity, and takes frequent walks with her dog around Salem, Massachusetts.