Spring Comes to Narragansett Bay in Rhode Island

The parking lot at the Blithewold estate in Bristol is overflowing on this chilly day in late April. I walk around the pink blooms of the Japanese star-magnolia tree and under the signature Japanese cedar that stands guard in front of the massive stone mansion. That’s when I get my first glimpse of the soft yellow hues glowing from a vast garden, stemming from row after row of daffodils. Young girls dressed as fairies run down the aisles, butterfly wings attached to their backs and colorful ribbons in their hair flowing in the wind. I follow their cue and enter a pasture coated with morning dew to find countless families happily ensconced within the centuries-old stone walls. A harpist plays as kids create papier-mâché flowers, blow bubbles, and dance around a Maypole. I half-expect to see nymphs lounging in a nearby pond of water lilies. This is exactly the vision of spring awakening I’ve been yearning for after our polar-vortex winter. I need to stir my soul with spring blooms, buds, and community spirit as we all collectively end our days of hibernation. I’ve come to where spring arrives first in New England, the temperate zone along the shores of Narragansett Bay.

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Mention Narragansett Bay to a sailor and he’s bound to get all misty-eyed thinking of the prevailing southwestern breeze that kicks up on most summer afternoons. After all, this was the home of the America’s Cup, our foremost sailing event, from 1930 to 1983. But you don’t have to be the next Ted Turner or venture here only in summer to appreciate the bay’s splendor. The same ice sheet that formed Cape Cod also created New England’s largest estuary, lined by miles of rugged shoreline and perfectly protected harbors, home to a thriving sea trade during America’s Colonial period. Here, where farmland rolls to the sea, towns like Bristol, Portsmouth, Newport, and Jamestown are surrounded on three sides by water, creating this area’s own microclimate. “We’re only 20 miles south of Providence, but often the I-95 corridor is 10 to 15 degrees colder than Bristol,” says the Reverend Charles Cavalconte as we stroll the boardwalk at the Claire D. McIntosh Wildlife Refuge, run by the Audubon Society of Rhode Island.

With a population close to 23,000, the historic seaside village of Bristol is blessed with an abundance of green space. The sprawling lawn at Colt State Park slopes to a vast panorama of shoreline and sea. The fields at Mount Hope Farm are a perfect place to picnic under umbrageous weeping-willow trees, with views of Mount Hope Bay and the bridge heading to Newport. Then there’s the McIntosh Wildlife Refuge, a 28-acre retreat beloved by walkers and bikers, who visit via the East Bay Bike Path connecting Providence to Bristol. Birdsong welcomes me to the Refuge’s trails, which meander across fields on wood chips before strolling atop marsh along the boardwalk. On top of a dead oak tree I spot the puffy white head of a young osprey peering out of his oversized nest. Redwing blackbirds flit among the tall cattails, still brown and brittle, not yet in soft summer form. A green heron peers intently at the water, looking for his next meal. And amid the swamp lilies and skunk cabbage that grows like large green ferns in the marsh, I spot the two eyes of a frog staring at me.

“Even though we’re a little slice of heaven, nature still finds its way to us,” says Anne DiMonti, a marine biologist at the Refuge. For lunch, most locals inevitably find their way to Quito’s, a seafood restaurant overlooking the bay. At the end of the East Bay Bike Path in Bristol, expect a line out the door waiting to dine al fresco in summer. In the spring, however, you can easily snag a table indoors and enjoy the same fresh seafood that arrives daily from fishermen who tie up at the nearby docks. It’s been a daily ritual since 1954, when Quito’s opened as a fish market before converting to a restaurant. The whole-belly fried-clam platter is a specialty, along with pan-seared cod and salmon. With a chill still in the air, I order a piping-hot seafood stew, filled to the brim with calamari, lobster, scallops, tuna, shrimp, and swordfish, served in a peppery tomato broth. Between spoonfuls, I peer out the window to watch fishermen in their wooden trawlers bouncing on the whitecaps after a morning at sea. Another perennial Rhody favorite, The Beehive Café, just ex­panded last summer to accommodate its growing number of loyal followers. I make my way there the next morning to grab a cup of New Harvest Coffee, made from beans roasted by a nearby Pawtucket wholesaler. Then I dig into lemon–cornmeal pancakes, topped with genuine maple syrup. A quick stop to see some of the winning designs of early America’s Cup sailboats at the Herreshoff Marine Museum and I’m off to Blithewold Mansion, Gardens & Arboretum to savor the festivities of Daffodil Days.

The grounds are a treat at any time of year. With its mix of exotic plantings, including Japanese cypress trees, giant sequoias, and rows of tall maples leading from the mansion to the bay, you need no excuse to roam the grounds. The vast lawn churns out wedding after wedding from the time the daffodils are in bloom to when the leaves on the maples turn crimson—yet it’s hard to top this special day in spring when fairies skip, dance, run, and, I swear, even fly.

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Two weeks later, I’m back on the bay for another dose of whimsy at the seasonal opening of Green Animals Topiary Garden in Portsmouth. I’m here to view the dinosaurs, unicorns, reindeer, and other animals sculpted from California privet, yew, and English boxwood at the oldest and most northern topiary garden in the United States. Little did I know, however, that opening-day morning at the garden is time for the annual plant sale.

Pen and notebook are quickly discarded as I’m caught in a frenzy of gardeners throwing Asiatic lilies, tomato plants, geraniums, and herbs like oregano into a cardboard crate. I’m downright giddy that I’m purchasing these goodies at a fraction of the cost I’d pay near my home in suburban Boston. With my future garden secured safely in the trunk of my car, I walk the sweeping grounds, hemmed in by tall balsams on one side and Narragansett Bay on the other. Strolling downhill, I smell the salty brine and peer up at the bright white blossoms of a cherry tree. Feeling elated over my surprise purchase, I’m in no rush.

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The drive from Portsmouth to Newport is only 20 minutes, yet it provides a great glimpse of Americana come early May. Parents stand around baseball diamonds watching their children play Little League games; high-school students urge you to pull over for a charity-drive car wash. Not far from the Bellevue Avenue mansions in Newport, I stop in at the boutique-clothing store Isoude, which has just opened for the new season. Owner Kate Brierley—a Rhode Island School of Design and Fashion Institute of Technology grad whose work has been featured in Vogue—has been busy creating her spring/summer collection, which, she explains, was inspired by the changing seasons (or, like me, far too much time indoors on the winter tundra). “Spring is the time when your body comes to life and you become aware of your circadian rhythm,” Brierley says. “Birds are singing again, the sun is shining, so I wanted to create something that reflects that.” The result is an Impressionistic print dappled with vibrantly colored dots. You’ll find it on a variety of pieces, including dresses, gowns, and jumpsuits. Come evening, I search for a restaurant with deep farm-to-table roots, where the daily menu depends on the produce the local farms provide. I know I’ve chosen wisely when I enter the intimate dining room at Tallulah on Thames, look up at the tin ceiling, and listen to the mellow voice of Nat King Cole. Each dish is like a shrine to spring: asparagus topped with sliced radishes and mustard seeds; cauliflower spiced with harissa and pistachios, a sublime mix of sugar and sweet.

Even the butter has sprouts—micro­greens from Big Black Dog, a nearby farm in Middletown. The chef thinks nothing of walking outside to the flower boxes to pick mint or edible flowers for his next dish. My last plate, lamb with carrots and nasturtiums, is so colorful when it appears at the table that I imagine I’m staring at one of Kate Brierley’s prints.

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Across the bridge from Newport to Conanicut Island, life slows in the village of Jamestown; I feel as though I should be traveling by horse-and-buggy. This is certainly true of the sylvan chunk of land known as Watson Farm, in existence since 1796. I arrive on Sheep Shearing Day, when the docile creatures are shaved in a pen just in front of the gray-shingled barn. Pulled and tugged this way and that, they don’t put up a fight and actually seem happy to get rid of their coats. I touch the just-clipped wool and it still feels warm. Nearby, a group of spinners work their magic to transform the fleece into yarn, which will be used to make the shawls the farm sells.

I pass a pen of lambs and clamber uphill to a field of tall grass dotted with a herd of heritage Red Devon cattle. Looking down on the water, I spot a lone sail splintering through the trees. When I return to the barn, the place is full of life. Sheep are bleating; kids are laughing as they pick bouquets of dandelions and try the tree swing; and a band plays foot-stomping bluegrass tunes. Winter seems like a faint memory.

Summer Adventures around Narragansett Bay

Once the daffodils bloom, it’s not long before the lazy days of summer arrive and Narragansett Bay be­comes one of New England’s top playgrounds. Here are four of our favorite things to do in the region.

Ride the East Bay Bike Path

The 14.5-mile East Bay Bike Path, originally part of the Providence, Warren & Bristol rail line, heads southeast from the capital along scenic shores to Bristol. Less than two miles into the ride, fishing trawlers and sailboats start to appear on your right, and you’ll see locals clamming for littlenecks in the shallow waters along the route—quite a contrast to the Providence skyline behind you.riparks.com/Locations/LocationEastBay.html

Sail Out of Newport

They call it the “smoky sou’wester,” the same breeze that drew the America’s Cup races here for more than 50 years: calm and sunny morn­ings followed by windy afternoons, average speed 10–20 knots. Get out on the water aboard a traditional schooner or a proper sailboat, like the 34-foot O’Day offered by Sightsailing. sightsailing.com

Paddle Wickford Harbor

Wickford Harbor is a sheltered part of the western coast where oyster beds and sea-grass meadows make up the puckered shoreline. Rent a kayak and glide past Rabbit and Cornelius islands; Cornelius is a good spot to picnic and go for a dip. kayakcentre.com

Bike Prudence Island

Traveling Prudence Island, seen from the shores of Bristol, on a mountain bike is like visiting the Rhode Island of yesteryear: farmland, small villages, and spectacular ocean views around every bend. Miles of trails and dirt roads snake through the undeveloped landscape, interrupted only by the occasional deer grazing in an old apple orchard. rinemba.org/PrudenceIslandA frequent contributor to Yankee, Steve Jermanok is one of America’s most prolific travel writers, with more than 1,500 bylines—the result of having visited 80 countries.