On the southwestern most tip of the tiny state of Rhode Island is the summer enclave of Watch Hill. It is known for its discrete wealth. Understated when compared with its over-extended cousin Newport to the north.
The Coast Guard station is perched at the far end of a point reaching into Block Island Sound. The lighthouse warns mariners away from the rocks and the sandy coast. In late summer its blinking red eye scans the horizon for winter.
Soon - the crowds and laughter of summer will subside and the Watch Hill light will stand a lonely vigil in the cold. Through Thanksgiving, past Christmas and New Year, and through the raw winter winds of January and February.
On shore the greens of summer are slowly forced out by the purples, reds and yellows of fall. The far edge of summer is a struggle in color.
Annuals are pulled from flower boxes in favor of fall mums.
The return to school leaves the beach pavilions empty and silent. Sand sweeps over the parking lot. Wooden piers creak as they support the shacks abandoned until next year.
Words and photos by Dean Pagani. Copyright 2015.