Not far to the south, in Boston and thereabouts, trees are leafed out in their spring livery. But on the broken granite coast of Cape Ann, lilacs bend under cold sleet and sugar maples are yet a week away from unfurling their foliage.
Churlish gulls pick at fast food wrappers kicking down the dock.
Fishermen in Eddie Bauer jackets pulled tight gather near their boats. They blow steam from small plastic cups of espresso. Nick Sanfilippo and his five sons are already on their boats. Sanfilippo's repairing nets, a plastic shuttle in one hand, a vicious little knife in the other. He's small, compact, like a floating mine.