A long acquainted sister to Mystic’s busy shore .   It is early Sunday,   here      in Newport, Rhode Island.       Ah, the crisp morning air feels so good as I’m graced by the essence of fresh coffee and warm fudge being prepared for the day’s sales.      The familiar is genuinely comforting.            I draw, but am not alone, as the spirited folk who tiptoe by whisper greetings of “mornin’ … mornin’ to ya” (ever so careful not to waken the weary).          The crumbled sound of the morning paper rustles about.                                        The bells toll for first service.
So it is most Sunday’s in Newport – generously simple.
