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| Easter for sale at Orleans Community Exchange |
Spring takes many forms other than chocolate bunnies and marshmallow peeps:
- Spring is when formerly dead-looking grass looks like Disney came along with a fresh coat of green paint overnight and the skies are so dramatic it makes you want to be a painter.
- Spring is when walls of boring, gray sticks are transformed into brilliant, yellow forsythia hedges all over town leaving me wondering why I haven't planted any, yet. But, yellow is well-represented by many types of daffodils.
- Spring is when I sit on the edge of the raised bed garden pulling out tree roots while listening to the raucous tree frogs in the pond across the street. This will be the last season for the raised bed back-breaking root pulling, as I go 100% to pots next year.
- Spring is the first exciting trip to Agway for potting soil and seedlings, and planting the new salad garden.
- Spring is waking up to the sound of gobbling wild turkeys outside the window looking for mates.
- Spring heralds the first Right Whale of 2019 spotted in Cape Cod Bay with her 9th known calf. This mother, first seen in 1982, is identified as #1204 and is at least 38 years old.
- Spring is the time for new fences to replace the ones ravaged by last year's Nor'easters, complete with built in bird houses. Happy to report that one blue bird couple has decided to stay with us this Spring and the first hummingbird was spotted at the feeder on April 27th. The oriole feeders are at the ready.
- Spring sends gusty winds, which stole the dryer vent right off the wall, blew the greenhouse over, buffeted my car going into town, and takes anything else that isn't battened down.
- It takes 3 wardrobe changes on a typical Spring day, starting with a sweatshirt, paring down to a light T-shirt and then back to something warm as the sun sets. And, it's time to put the pink Cape Cod hoodie back in the car for when onshore breezes suddenly turn chilly.
- Oh, and the relaxation DVD's are back in the car for Easter traffic, which is just a taste of what's in store beyond Spring. Already, entering the main roads are like watching a tennis match waiting for the sweet spot that allows you to go on your way. And, rental bikes are everywhere, waiting like ducklings on wheels in queue to cross the roads.
The big story this April was the Stop and Shop strike. The Quincy, MA based store employs more than 31,000 associates throughout Massachusetts, Rhode Island and Connecticut and they all walked off the job while the United Food and Commercial Workers Unions negotiated health care, wages and pension issues that are close to the hearts of working people everywhere. Even though there was self-checkout available for the quickly dwindling supplies on the shelves, the community for the most part boycotted stores until the strike was settled eleven days later. What has been so heart-warming are the stories of how communities supported the workers, despite the "food deserts" the strike created in small towns that have no other options.
On my first visit to their competitor, Shaw's, the store was overrun with dazed shoppers, including myself, looking for help finding things, as the store layout and products are totally different from what we S&S-er's are used to. They couldn't stock the shelves fast enough and the lines were horrendous. The small towns of Truro and Provincetown, north of us, have no other shopping options, so the Cape Cab company generously pitched in to offer free shuttle service to Shaw's for one-hour shopping trips. In the town of Harwich, a local shop owner took it upon herself to distribute rain ponchos to the rain-or-shine strikers there. In Western Mass, one of our sons purchased bottled water from a competitor store and distributed it to their strikers. As someone who abhors unnecessary honking of car horns, I never missed a honk and thumbs up when I drove by our store workers holding their signs by the side of the road. This always elicited enthusiastic waving from the strikers. It has been humbling to learn just how much we take for granted being able to walk into our favorite store with familiar faces, and find our favorite products in their familiar places. It will take awhile to get all those shelves in three different states full again, but I always hear shoppers welcoming our workers back when I go in with no complaints about how long it will be to find their favorite items again.
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| The sentries at the ready. |
April, 2010 - Cape Chronicles #7
As I have previously mentioned, New Englanders have a soft spot in their hearts for birds. and I discovered a spot on the local NPR station called ‘Bird News’. Vernon Laux’, an ornithologist, author and resident naturalist, not only knows which birds I am likely to find in any given season, or where they go off-season, he will also identify and play their individual calls. We've taken to naming some of the regulars at our feeder. Our cardinal couple has been dubbed Clyde and Claudia Cardinale, a tribute to the actress of that name.
Finally, after three months, I had my first deer siting! It was dusk and as we were returning home, I noticed something white moving by the side of the road. It turned out to be a hightailing deer, from where that word must be derived. We immediately pulled over and turned the headlights off and had a stare-down for a moment before he chose caution and headed to the woods. I know that I’ll either have to get up earlier, or walk later, if I’m going to become acquainted with the rest of the family.
With a whole season of treasure hunting now under my belt, I am starting to get to know the locals who volunteer their time. At the Harwich Treasure Chest is Debbie, a “little person” with a very big cheerful attitude. Miss Kitty, a 19 year-old cat who was born in that building hangs out in the sweater bin and is always ready for a chin rub. At today’s visit, one of the local farmers came by with his daughter, who was holding Zippy, a one-week old lamb in her arms. We were all allowed to pet him and learned that his mother was ill and not expected to live, so the little girl had delightedly taken over the job of mothering him. They also had triplets born the night before, a wooly reminder that Spring has arrived.
At my own Eastham Stock Exchange, there is George, an 80-something curmudgeon, who talks like Buddy Hackett, and seems to thrive on grumbling about how much junk is lying around. No amount of reason about the irony of his statement seems to dissuade his schtick. Immune to his litany, is Barbara, who just turned 90 and invited the whole town to her birthday party, requesting no gifts, except for chocolate. When I shared that my mother was also very fond of chocolate, she explained that ever since she fell and hit her head, the only tastes she can distinguish are sweet and sour, and she didn’t want pickles for her birthday. I didn’t make it to the party, but I did bring her some chocolate chip cookies on my next visit.
At my own Eastham Stock Exchange, there is George, an 80-something curmudgeon, who talks like Buddy Hackett, and seems to thrive on grumbling about how much junk is lying around. No amount of reason about the irony of his statement seems to dissuade his schtick. Immune to his litany, is Barbara, who just turned 90 and invited the whole town to her birthday party, requesting no gifts, except for chocolate. When I shared that my mother was also very fond of chocolate, she explained that ever since she fell and hit her head, the only tastes she can distinguish are sweet and sour, and she didn’t want pickles for her birthday. I didn’t make it to the party, but I did bring her some chocolate chip cookies on my next visit.
With much excitement for us, and our new B&B management company, we booked our first reservation. As it turns out, and we take this as a good omen, our first guest has stayed here before under the prior management and is very excited that this location is again open for business. We hope to dazzle her with our new look.
While volunteering my weekly hours where I now do most of my consigning, I learned that the Orleans Community Exchange is the oldest thrift store on the Cape. It began during WWII as a place where neighbors could bring whatever surplus goods they had to barter for things they needed. Though its business model has evolved to a cash-for-goods exchange, the purpose still connects people with what they want or need.
Our third anniversary was made truly special with dinner reservations at one of our favorite restaurants on the Cape, The Red Pheasant Bistro, in the town of Dennis. The owners are old friends of Ron’s, and came by for hugs before disappearing into the kitchen to finish preparing our duck, quail and for dessert, tiramisu and almond creme brulee. Bill, Jr. learned his culinary artistry from Bill, Sr., as well as independent study in Europe during part of the long Cape winters. The bistro is located in a refurbished barn, on which Ron has previously spent many restoration hours, and he has been prevailed upon to continue the job of preserving the architectural integrity. One can choose to dine near the blazing fireplace, or in the room overlooking the garden, which his wife, Denise, masterfully planted and tends. Bill also plays a mean harmonica at local clubs.
Another sure sign of Spring is the annual reporting of the first Pinkletinks, the Spring Peepers which we hear loudly and clearly from the nearby ponds and marshes. For those who are not familiar with them by that name, they are a tiny tree frog that would fit on a dime, marked with an ‘X’ on their back. The northern variety of Peeper croaks an average of 5000 times a night. With a pond full, that’s a lot of free music.
Speaking of music, another treat our local Stop & Shop has is a live steel drum musician, who sets up on weekends next to the produce department and serenades the shoppers. The cashiers are not as entertained by it as I am after an eight-hour shift, but it’s a fun change from the Richmond Kroger’s elevator music.
Like most religious holidays, Easter has never been a day of much significance for me. It was when other kids got baskets of chocolate eggs from the Easter Bunny, while I was stuck with matzoh sandwiches and only got visited by my cousins, and an invisible angel named Elijah, who didn’t bring me anything. This year, my new friend, Ray, made a special trip over on Easter Eve, dressed in sequined rabbit ears, bearing gifts of dyed eggs with our names etched in the paint, and coins taped to the bottoms. He also came armed with 2 pieces of wicked-good chocolate torte from the new French bakery in Wellfleet, which has everyone talking. Easter Day was sunny and warmer than average, and we couldn’t think of anything more fitting to do than to walk along the Cape Cod Bay. Since Ray’s wife, Anna, a visiting nurse, has been on medical leave for months, with a broken foot and sprained ankle, they decided to bring our “Welcome to the Cape meal” to us. Armed with a bowl of already prepared dough and a bag full of fresh ingredients, Ray proceeded to take over our kitchen and gave Ron and I a hands-on lesson in how to make pizza from scratch, while Anna, with her foot propped up, added commentary. I must say, the homemade crust was well worth the effort, and we look forward to trying many variations.
In Virginia, we knew Spring had arrived when our car windshields were covered with a thick layer of yellow pollen. Here on the Cape, there are other clues, as in an immediate increase in out of state license plates. I’m told that everything picks up speed on Patriots Day in April and the place isn’t the same until Labor Day. I’ve got my shortcut routes memorized and I’m ready to experience living in a resort from the other side for the first time. I've now navigated solo all the way to Hyannis and back, along the summer short cuts.
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| The Cape Cod Easter Bunny |
We were notified today of our 2nd B&B reservation, this one all the way from Buenos Aires, Argentina to attend the same conference as our first guest.
Every year, Massachusetts celebrates Patriot’s Day, commemorating the anniversary of the first battle of the American Revolutionary War at Lexington and Concord on April 19th. There are battle re-enactments at Lexington Green and at The Old North Bridge in Concord, and also, a mounted re-enactor retracing Paul Revere’s ride, complete with warnings about the British coming. It’s also the day of the Boston Marathon, and not least of all, my birthday, which means that I used to get the day off when I lived in Boston. We had a celebration here, hosting 16 guests for a cookout. These were mostly Ron’s friends from his prior 19 years on the Cape, and have all become part of my extended family. What made the evening interesting was that many of them had never met each other before, so in Seinfeld-speak, “worlds collide!”. It proved to be a fun gathering of people discovering new kindred spirits, and I ended my 59th year uplifted by the positive energy of newly offered friendship.
The April Bloom Report in our yard includes purple, pink and white hyacinths, at least 4 varieties of daffodils, crocuses, forsythia, irises, tulips, wisteria, purple lilac trees, columbine, butterfly bushes, poppies, red dogwoods and a peach tree, Our rosebushes are sprouting new leaves everyday, and I'm guessing that the reddish buds coming up near the back porch are peonies. The shrub that I had hoped was a pussy willow now appears to be a star magnolia preparing to bloom. In the raised bed garden, there are chives growing and what could be either rhubarb or chard, but it’s too early to tell. Every day sheds new light on something else, freshly sprouted.
The Wildlife Report consists of four relocated squirrels, a chipmunk getting fatter by the day from sneaking into the peanut butter without setting off the trap, a bunny who lives under a rosebush outside our kitchen window, redwing blackbirds, the most adorable raccoon and two wild turkeys who marched across the front yard and spread their beautiful, big wings to glide over the fence. But, the really big news spreading quickly is that, “the herrings are running, the herrings are running!” This is considered an extremely noteworthy sign of Spring around here, and many people joined us in flocking to Herring Run, in Brewster, to watch the fish jumping up the man-made ladders on their way to spawn. The real show are the seagulls, who announce the event for spectators in loud, showy squawks. The water was thick with herring about 6” long, not much smaller than the length of a seagull, which made me wonder, how many fish a gull could actually continue to swallow. I suddenly had a new appreciation for the jars of pickled herring my mother used to buy after seeing the odds of perpetuating this species. Also, rounding out the wildlife report is The Incredible Casuals, rehearsing in our basement for their Spring debut. It’s amazing how bass travels through wood.
A bittersweet reservation (#3) was taken this week from family of our neighbor across the street. Don paid us a quick visit in December while we were unloading the moving van, and apologized for his wife, Helen, not being able to welcome us, as she was “under the weather”. As time went on, and I still had not met her, I took the opportunity last week when I saw her sitting on her front porch bench on my way to the mailbox, to pop over and say hi. To my delight, I found a spunky, articulate woman with a similarly wicked sense of humor, but to my dismay, I also learned that she is under hospice care for lung cancer. Her family will be making visits while they are still able and some will be staying with us.
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| Herring Run in Brewster |
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| Sharing a birthday party with Ray, he is 3 days older than me. |
