This summer, we completed our excursions through the United States. Over the years, we’ve traveled along the Pacific Coast from Seattle to San Diego, from San Diego to San Antonio, along the east coast from Maine to the Florida Keys, from Monterey to Las Vegas, around the Four Corners, from the Rocky Mountains through Yellowstone to the Badlands of South Dakota, from New York City to Niagra Falls, Philadelphia to Chicago, Nashville to New Orleans, and along the Blue Ridge Mountains and through the Shenandoah Valley.

We visit these regions of our country for their history, for their culture, and for their scenery – for the views of our oceans from the precipitous cliffs of each coast, of our rivers from the canyons they carved, of the flower-flecked valleys from the ice glazed crests of the Rockies and the Smokies, of sunrises in Maine and sunsets in Key West.  We’ve toured several of their gardens, Winterthur and Longwood, Villa Vizcaya and the Magnolia Plantation, Manhattan’s Highline and Shelburne’s Bridge of Flowers. We’ve visited several of their trees: the Sequoias, the elms of Central Park’s Promenade, the Sunset Strip’s palm allees, Vermont’s maples, the live oaks of Savannah, the evergreens that create the Black Hills, the redwoods, the cypresses of Louisiana swamps, the Mohave’s Joshua tree. We’ve witnessed the natural flora of New Mexico’s desert cactuses, the columbine of Colorado’s mountains, the Everglades’ grasses, and the fields of Texas where flowers grow wild – ‘Indian Blanket’ and ‘Indian Paintbrush’, ‘Blue Bonnets’ and ‘Blue-eyed Grass’,  morning glories and sunflowers and evening primroses — as far as the eye can see.

Everywhere we’ve traveled  reminds us of how blessed we are for the opportunity of experiencing the splendor of our country, the diversity of its people – reflecting the maxim “e pluribus unum”, and the diversity of its landscapes, mountains and mesas, deserts and swamps, prairies and skyscrapers. We’re also reminded of how blessed we are in our liberties. The testaments to democracy in Washington D.C. and in the halls of Philadelphia, on the battlefields of Gettysburg, of Concord and Lexington, remind us of our freedoms, and the sacrifice of so many to preserve them.

Even with the turmoil of these last few years, or perhaps especially in tumultuous times, we recognize America’s majesty, and recognize patriotism in our soldiers and our veterans, the  voters, those who protest the suppression of voter rights, who march for the protection of civil rights, the perseverance of the oppressed who keep speaking, of the press that keeps reporting, and of the refugees, who many of us view differently, though all of us must  certainly recognize their yearning for America, and our good fortune in being born American citizens.

Returning home, we remember how blessed we are here in Hampton.  We awaken to the colorful trumpets of lilies welcoming us at the window, inviting us to a stroll around the dewy lawn to see the surprises that await us in the gardens. We usually travel mid-summer, so the spears of astilbes and filipendula fluff and spires of thermopsis have been replaced with burgeoning balloon flowers, and pink hills of phlox, and tall stalks of sunny heliopsis. A visual inventory of all the new flowers complete, we come in cradling handfuls of wild blackberries to serve for breakfast with cream from a local dairy.

Longer walks reveal that in our absence, black-eyed Susans have started to spurt on the roadsides and Queen Anne’s lace has started to freckle the fields; water lilies float on the ponds and dragonflies now thread our vision.  People who pass us wave from unidentified vehicles. We collect our mail at the Post Office, where the postcards we sent to the post mistress are displayed on the bulletin board. We walk to the library to return our books, converse with other patrons on our travels and news we might have missed. From the porch, one of my favorite spots in Hampton, we see the friendly face of the General Store, the “lily triangle” in full bloom, and I even recognize some of the flowers as gifts from neighbors’ gardens. How many hours have I spent on this street? On some of these porches? And yet, I never tire of the walk or the view. Or those anonymous waves.

Some of my favorite Hampton moments this year: the outpouring of stories paying tribute to Paulie Tumel, long gone, but never forgotten; the party for Peggy Fox’s 90^th birthday celebration with so many people, ranging from her contemporaries to the youngest children of her newest neighbors, our newest neighbors; a referendum this spring when a voter, reporting on a missing cat, entered the polls and announced — “Loki is home!” — and everyone in the room clapped.

I’m sure you have some favorite Hampton moments, too. Share them with us. Tell us of your excursions through Goodwin and Trail Wood, along the Airline Trail and the village, in the Community Center and the General Store. Let us know how your garden grows and of your family’s travels. Tell us of new neighbors you’ve met, the milestones of old friends, and your own accomplishments. We welcome your stories on the town newspaper’s pages. In the meantime – Merry Christmas, Hampton, and a blessed New Year!

Dayna McDermott