My first trip to New England was in 1961 aboard the TWA Constellation. Before jetliners. I had spent more time in a little plane
so this was really different. I remember my parents taking me out of first grade for the trip and my teacher telling them that would be a far better education than staying in the classroom. I also recall it was cold and my mom helping me put on my leotards as we made our descent into Boston Logan. 54 years later, I'm sitting on a Boeing 737 typing on my laptop and wishing I had some leotards. But, I digress...
I wake before sunrise and search with my new high powered binoculars for critters outside. I think I see movement, but it's only a blowing shrub. For the first time I hear the ferry in Provincetown blow its horn three times as it leaves the harbor. It must be because of the direction the wind is blowing that I can actually hear it. I spend most of the day sitting outside on the porch cogitating.
An hour before sunset I hike down to the empty beach. The clouds are clabbering up as they say back home. My professional photographer's eye knows we are in for an unforgettable sunset.
The waves are crashing every which way over the Peaked Hill Bar, which gives this area it's nickname; graveyard of the Atlantic. Lots of ship bones buried underneath those sandbars. A seal skeleton has washed ashore. The bones have been picked clean. Its rib cage looks like a tiny ship's ribs. I'm struck once again how primal life is out here in the natural world. And how basic life is when you get down to it. Here I wake up, pee, eat, poop, read, walk, cook, sleep with few technological distractions. Well, my iphone gets in the way...
As the sky says its prayer,
the seagulls fly back to the dunes to roost. Their breasts are alpen glow pink. If I had a real camera, I maybe could've captured that, but the iphone will have to do.
When I get back to Euphoria, I light all the oil lamps
and count how many sun gold tomatoes I have left. 29. I've been parsing them out daily.
I brought fresh veggies at the farmer's market the morning I was packed out here. So tonight's menu will be corn on the cob, a salad and a pork chop.
An ocean liner is lit up like a chandelier on the black horizon. The shack is so quiet all I can hear is the dripping water filter and the wind whistling. That cold front is coming in.
What was that scratching? I may have a white-footed visitor.
