2019 APRIL - Spring Is & Cape Chronicles #7 - April, 2010

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.

The sentries at the ready.

With Memorial Day creeping up, it's time to make the most of the last bit of pre-High Season time before it becomes all about tourism.  Here's a look back at our first April here with the continuing pre-quels.      

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.

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.

The Cape Cod Easter Bunny

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.

We were notified today of our 2^nd  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 19^th.  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 59^th 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.

Herring Run in Brewster

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.

Sharing a birthday party with Ray, he is 3 days older than me.

2019 MARCH - Spring Equinox, The Ides and The Continuing Condensed PREQUELS #5 & 6

Just in time for the Spring Equinox

The first North Atlantic Right Whale has been spotted off the Provincetown coastline this month, and reports of seven new calves along the Atlantic coast is great news for this endangered species.  The #1 threat continues to be "death by ship strike", and a flexible slow-down zone for ships remains in effect.   

A local column this month noted that when you live in the city, talking about the weather is something you do for polite conversation.  "Nice day" or "Looks like rain".  But, when you live on an island, the weather becomes a greater influence in day to day life.  The tides, wind speed, temperature and precipitation all determine what kind of day you're going to have if your work is on the water or outside.  There's a more intimate and immediate connection that makes checking tomorrow's weather a ritual and I usually print out the local weather report for B&B guests when they're here for a few days to help them plan activities.  Even a walk on the beach benefits from this seemingly basic information. 

Coast Guard Beach in Eastham

New England has a large Irish population, so St. Patrick's Day is a very popular holiday around these parts.  This year, a special 4-legged guest, led by Peter McClelland, served as Grand Marshall.  Last year, Yarmouth Police Sergeant Sean Gannon and his K9 partner, Nero, both walked in the parade, but after both were shot when serving a warrant, only Nero survived to walk it this year.  The parade theme was "The Spirit of the Community" and was dedicated to K9 Officer Gannon.  

Every now and then, I learn another fascinating story about how quiet, little Cape Cod figured into well-known historical happenings.  The Marconi Wireless Station in the town of Wellfleet was instrumental in relaying messages about the sinking Titanic, which helped to save 740 people.  It happened only as a coincidence when an off-duty wireless operator aboard the ocean liner Carpathia tuned in to the Marconi's scheduled updates to find out information about a coal strike in his home in England.  Learning that Marconi's messages weren't getting through to the Titanic, he decided to help and received a response back, "Come at once, we have struck a berg."  On his way to assist a rescue, he advised the Marconi operator, who began transmitting calls to other ships nearby for assistance.     

The station also played a significant role in defeating the Germans during the Battle of the Atlantic by intercepting Enigma-encrypted wireless messages between German headquarters and its ships at sea.  The Marconi station is now preserved and run by the National Seashore Park Service.

Two other Cape Cod stories made it into Ripley's Believe it or Not.  The first, in 1959, told of Eastham's Captain Edward Penniman, described as, "the mariner who led a charmed life."  His historic home is on our street on the way to Fort Hill, and is now owned by the National Seashore.  Remarkably, Penniman sailed on seven different vessels on whaling expeditions, brought them all home to port safely, and every one of them was destroyed after he left command.  The other story told of Warren Edwards of Orleans, who was on volunteer patrol of the beach keeping watch for submarines during World War II.  Instead of subs, he found 80 letters addressed to Harold Douglas washed up on the beach and took them to the lighthouse station in Chatham.  As coincidence happened, Serviceman 
Douglas, from Kansas City, MO, had just reported for duty there the day before.  While on board a ship sailing from Greenland, he tossed the letters overboard and they were picked up by the Labrador current and delivered to the Nauset shore. 

The Penniman House 

Last Spring, it was the Sagamore Bridge's turn for some TLC to its old joints, which tied up traffic and had Cape Codders on our end of the Cape grumbling loudly for months.  This Spring, it's the Bourne Bridge's turn to go from four to two lanes while bridge joints are replaced.  Workers will be on the job 24/7 hoping to complete the work by Memorial Day. 

In April, I will reluctantly take down the snowflake and icicle decorations from the old beams in our kitchen that get put up every Winter Solstice 'as a suggestion' to the universe'.  It wasn't our year for a big snow show, but the gardens are preparing for one of their own, and the show must go on.  Meanwhile, look backwards if you choose, to this same time when we first washed ashore and created life on a Cape Cod B&B.    

Cape Chronicles #5 – February, 2010 

From Fort Hill overlooking Town Cove and the Atlantic Ocean

I continue to be amazed at how easily the landscape takes my breath away.  On a simple run into town to do the most mundane errands, the sudden glimpse of shimmering water, seabirds and clouds that look as if they were fashioned by a pastry chef remind me again as if for the first time where I am. I’m grateful for admission to this show about how the seasons shape this place all year, and I'm greedily savoring the exclusive time that I don’t have to share it with summer people.

Thrift and consignment shops are as plentiful here as kudzu on back roads in the South, and my formerly casual treasure hunting has evolved into a more purposeful consigning and volunteering pastime. I’m told there are even chartered thrift shopping bus tours during the summers.  On good days, foraging in the 'free shops' at the transfer station has yielded wonderful finds, including books, clothing, kitchen items, a fountain, frames, mirrors, artwork, decorative items, furniture, yard and garden items, a bike and helmet, glass fireplace doors, and an endless list of miscellaneous things. Some get kept, some given away, and others consigned for the next person to find and appreciate them.  

Just when I think I have acquired a modicum of ‘cool’, another snow flurry will have me driving along with a silly, excited grin on my face that is impossible to control.  I wonder how many times it will take for me to become blasé about it? I've discovered a new phenomenon, which I call sun flurries. They're just what they sound like, a beautiful, sunny day, with bright blue sky and a few puffy clouds, out of which are sneezed delicate flurries. Today’s flurries found me driving the 2- lane Mid-Cape Highway, which is an easy way to get from town to town, unless there is someone driving below the speed limit. 

I’ve now come to realize that stocking up on favorite things for our move out of fear that I would be too far removed to find them was totally pointless.  The only thing lacking, the farther down-Cape one goes, are chain stores.  I can’t say there are any that I actually miss and it’s enjoyable patronizing local shops.  One in particular is a local coffee shop and meeting spot in Orleans called The Chocolate Sparrow. Think Starbucks, if they were also a candy store, grill and local art gallery. Even the Stop and Shop grocery has its own local ambiance with live announcements such as congratulating the staff "for making our very own Orleans store the biggest seller of baked chickens in New England, on ‘Crazy Chicken Day’. That’s right, folks, 2 baked chickens for ten buck-bucks!"  It reminds me of Principal Spotts' special announcements at school. Actually, many chain stores can be found if you’re willing to drive about a 20-30 minute jaunt to Hyannis.     
   

With a little help, the exercise equipment has been hauled in from the garage, where it was temporarily parked, to the basement, where it shares the Man Cave-Music Room.  With the hookup of a T.V. and VCR, all it lacks now are people exercising.    

This winter I've been remembering my mom with kudos for the extensive selection of silk camisoles she left behind that nobody else wanted. They are probably the only things she had that fit me, and she must have ordered every possible style from the Winter Silks catalogue.  I have benefited from every one of them in the last couple of winter months. I recently learned, via Ron and the History Channel, that aside from excellent insulation properties, silk was worn as an undergarment in battle, by the Huns, because it would keep a spinning arrow from puncturing the skin by tangling it up as it pierced the leather breastplates.  Little did my mother know that when she ordered these, she would also be keeping me safe during hunting season.

The Audubon Society has a huge presence in New England, and birds are a big deal on the Cape.  The designer of our home saw to it that we have the equivalent of a big welcome sign for feathered friends by custom building a different kind of bird house into every eave.  We've gotten into the spirit by providing a big birdbath off the porch, and have put up numerous feeders and suet cages, all visible from our windows, much to the delight of our quivering and chattering cats.  From the great horned owl, who serenades us at night, to the big Coopers Hawk who sometimes visits, looking for dinner, to the tiniest of chickadees, we have many chirpy new friends.  Because of the larger, predators, the cats must be content to do their viewing from inside.  I had my first coyote siting along the highway last week.  

I started to feel like a local when Ray, one of Ron’s old friends dropped by looking for his dog, Tiggy, and to share some free produce that he’d been given.  My refrigerator is now full of potatoes, peppers, cukes and mushrooms.  Although nothing was expected in return, I was glad to be able to send him home with a bag of homemade cookies and the last piece of pumpkin pie.  He also told us where to buy shellfish, fresh from the water, for pennies apiece.

There is still much talk about possible snowstorms on the horizon, but in a subtle shift, the stores are full of Burpee seed displays, St. Patty’s green, and bunnies.  Little green shoots peeking through the dirt all over the yard offer glimpses of the coming Spring show.  It seems too early, but I trust they know what they’re doing.

I made my first clam ‘chowdah’, as it’s called here, with the clams Ron bought and steamed.  It probably won’t be long before he decides to get a license and scratch for his own clams, oysters and mussels, which Ray told us are plentiful within walking distance from us.  Sort of gives a whole new meaning to running out to pick up dinner.  

March’s home project will be a partial bathroom renovation.  In an otherwise tasteful custom home, this particular room appears to have been designed by a blind person.  I have exercised tolerance for some other decorating statements that I personally wouldn’t have chosen, but tiny, brown, flowered wallpaper with a dark pink countertop, yellow fixtures and a beige floor is just a little too much to pretend is o.k.  With a very handy carpenter in the house, there is just not a good excuse to perpetuate this yuck factor. 

I spotted my first Spring flowers today, blooming in the front yard.  I think they are appropriately called ‘Snowdrops’. The big push now is to ready the 2 suites to be listed for guests and summer rentals, and we’ve been burning up craigslist, both to acquire items, and to sell unnecessary ones. The cottage will have a casual, white wicker and nautical theme.  The other will be more upscale, with a brass bed and Chinese carpet. We can only hope that people enjoy visiting them as much as we’ve enjoyed putting them together.  

Cape Chronicles - #6 – March, 2010

I know, I know, enough about the snow, already, especially for my Virginia friends, who already blame my leaving them for the mountains of dirty snow, still piled high in their parking lots.   But, this is March, the last hurrah of winter, and what can I say, except that I still thrill to every flurry!   With another giant storm lumbering up the Atlantic coast, this morning’s weather report called for 36 degrees, thick, gray skies, and…who knows?  That’s about as specific as you can get around here.  The ocean has a capricious way of redefining weather forecasts to suit its moods.   But, the kitchen window never lies.  As the lattes were steaming, I took the real measure of what the sky had in store for us.  The wonderfully long view takes in our front yard, the waving tall grasses of the protected Mary Chase Salt Marsh area beyond, and the curve of the hill on State Route 6, approaching our Fort Hill area.  When it snows, you can see every nuance of the ocean breezes as they blow in swirling sheets across the highway.   Eastham is known as a breezy town, anyway, but the snow showers literally paint the movement of the wind before your eyes.   Hey, soon you won’t be able to get me to shut up about what I’ve discovered blooming in my yard, so bear with me while I enjoy what’s left of how I’ve always pictured a real winter.

And, if the Snowdrop blooms by the front door weren’t enough of a harbinger of Spring, this morning we witnessed a convention of robins, who found our front yard exceptionally inviting.  I counted a minimum of 26 plump, orange tummies, as best I could, as they played with the wind currents from tree to tree. 

Wanting to learn as many nooks and crannies before guests come, we pulled over and visited what turned out to be the oldest cemetery on the Cape, about ½ mile from home.  Called Cove Burying Ground, it has stones that date back to the 1600’s.  Some of the writing has worn off, but the spelling and artwork on the legible ones are strangely fascinating.   One of them was of a man who was born in the 1500’s.   No rubbings are allowed anymore, for obvious reasons.

Forget about coming in like a lion…March has sauntered in with a beach umbrella and sunglasses.  Here it is, only March 9^th, and the daffodils in the back are ready to pop.  In just the last few days, the raw, wintery mix has cleared out, and we are quickly peeling layers and looking for lighter clothing to enjoy some gorgeous, teaser Spring days.   Of course, I don’t expect it to stay like this, but it’s pretty exciting watching the transformation.  All over, there are “Opening Soon” signs popping up in buildings that have been vacant all winter.  Seasonal property owners are beginning to do general sprucing up, which means lots more upscale stuff that gets dumped at the free swap shops as they redecorate for another summer season.  As a concession, to the approaching equinox, I’ve taken down my snowman flags and put up some more seasonally appropriate ones.   That will certainly provoke a Nor’easter, but I’m committed to sharing the Spring enthusiasm.
    

Perhaps this could have been called The Consignment Chronicles.  What continues to fascinate me is the element of serendipity in this pastime, for instance, the round, topless, wicker table I brought home, knowing that Ron could cut a new top,  But, as it became apparent that my porch was getting full, and there wasn’t really space for something that would also become an additional project, I decided to return it.  It hadn’t touched the ground for a whole minute before a man dashed over to retrieve it.  Ron pointed out that it needed a top, to which the man replied enthusiastically that he had a top at home, but no table.   My mother’s words, “maybe somebody could use this some day”, keeps coming back to haunt me.  She’d be so gratified to see how many times those words prove true here.  Yesterday, the epitome of excitement at any swap shop presented itself.  A truck with a big U-Haul pulled up, and for the second time this month, I encountered grown children who had the task of cleaning out their parents’ home.   The treasures in these trucks are from a generation of people who lived through the Great Depression,  (as opposed to the Crappy Depression in which we currently find ourselves) and they also subscribed to the theory that “maybe somebody could use this some day”.   I have instant empathy, having recently spent months clearing out my mother’s home.  It started out very methodically, considering each item, as to its future usefulness to someone, with pauses for reminiscences, then progressed to sorting with like items to perhaps find an appreciative place for donation, to finally filling boxes randomly with loads to take to the dump because nobody wants all this stuff and we have to get it out.  Happily, our swap shops here provide a place for some of these items to be adopted into new lives, giving validation to our parents' words. 

Daylight Savings Time snuck in under the veil of a wild and wooly Nor’easter that just won’t quit.  Instead of enjoying the benefit of longer days, it has been the same shade of gray for the past 3 days.  Though the temperatures are indeed more “Spring-like”, it really doesn’t feel much different than before when the wind is blowing cold sheets of rain.  In an effort to thumb our noses at this uncooperative behavior, we headed out to Nauset Beach, a part of Orleans I hadn’t seen yet.  It may not have been an ideal day for a walk on the beach, but watching the ocean’s fury from the comfort of our vehicle greatly enhanced the sandwiches and hot apple cider we picnicked on from the nearby Village Farm Market.

Nauset Beach in Orleans

On the morning before the first day of Spring, we had a lovely surprise when I opened the front door to chase off one of the chubby squirrels who love to dine at our bird feeders.  It smelled like ocean, real, honest-to-goodness, ahoy matey, ocean air.  Ron told me this would happen when it got warmer, but I had my doubts that it would make it all the way over the hill to our house.  Smelling is believing.  Also, very Spring-like are the crocuses and daffodils, which are beginning to bloom.  I’m told that we have a lilac and a plum tree in our back yard, and am looking forward to some fine sneezing and eating.

My critter timing is still off, but our new tenant tells me she came upon 3 deer on her morning walk up the hill, last week, and saw either a fox or a coyote when she was getting her mail.  So far, I’ve had to be content with hawks and chipmunks.  I did see a school bus at the lookout the other day, and am willing to include an elementary school field trip as a variation on critters.  I get very nostalgic when I see those reminders of my past life, but have become a bit of a wild critter myself lately and don’t know if I could sit still in a school office all day again.   It’s nice being on a new learning curve.

Last, but not least, we've chosen Bed and Breakfast Cape Cod, Inc.  as our management company to book our summer rentals.  Having already represented the former owners, they are very familiar with what works best for our situation, and are excellent advisors.  Ron got his wish to be a B&B, and I've gotten my wish to provide a stocked kitchen with continental breakfast items verses playing chef in our own kitchen.   And so, Crosswinds B&B, named for Ron’s sailboat in the front yard, is born.       

2019 February - Colorful Characters AND the continuing 2010 Prequels - Adventures on the Cape #3 & 4 - The First Month

Last summer's garden project looks rather festive with a frosting of snow.

When it's February in New England, the 'Happy New Year' greeting is quickly replaced with an enthusiastic GO PATS.  It serves as anything from hello to goodbye, and even for when you don't know what to reply to something, a GO PATS with a shrug will usually suffice.  A 6th Super Bowl win for the New England Patriots made a lot of people here very happy and took their minds off of not being on a warm beach somewhere else for awhile.

We much preferred watching at the 'Crosswinds Cineplex' than spending our retirement on a Super Bowl ticket.

This winter's raging storms have not yet had the OOMPF to cross the Cape Cod Canal, so February's weather has only yielded occasional, uneventful frostings, unless yoyo temperatures from frigid to Springlike counts. And yet in spite of this, it may be one of our busiest winters at the B&B.  The general consensus has been, "we don't care what the weather's doing, we just want to get away for a quiet weekend."  Despite all appearances of quiet nothingness going on here,  activity buzzes in cozy meeting rooms in preparation for the year to come.  Non-profits are planning events to bring in revenue to operate their programs.  Renovations and general sprucing up continue at homes and businesses.  Some bird species are already migrating North again and giving thumbs up to our dried mealworms and heated birdbaths.  And, fun evenings like The 24 Hr. Play Festival in Provincetown lure people away from their cozy sofas for an evening of creativity and fun.   

Coast Guard Beach is popular any time of year for a refreshing walk.

As I review the Prequels of our first year here, I've been reflecting on how our 10th winter here compares to washing ashore in the winter of 2009.  What comes to mind this month are all the colorful characters that have become a part of my life.  For instance, there was Marilyn, I say 'was' because at 80-something, she just passed away last month. A fellow volunteer at the consignment shop where I spend hours every week organizing and staging, Marilyn was a tall, attractive woman who never failed to greet me with a big smile and a compliment on my latest gardening effort. She never missed anything I did as she drove by to the post office for her mail. She was "one of my ladies".  

I just found out that "Bob, The Penman" also passed away.  We called him that because he was an avid collector of old pens and watches, which he would repair.  Poor health not withstanding, he was a frequent, cheerful visitor to the shop on an endless quest for his treasures.  Whenever I would find old pens I would keep them in my car for the next time he visited the shop.  The person who told me he died said she thought his real name was Leonard...Leonard the Penman?  But, everyone called him Bob, or just Hey,Penman.

There are a lot of 80-somethings here and I'm surprised I haven't been nicknamed 'Junior'.  When I have free time on my way home from errands in Orleans, I'm a frequent visitor to the St. Joan of Arc Thrift Shop.  My favorite day is Tuesdays, when I get to see two 80-something guys who volunteer at the front desk.  I imagine their names to be something like 'Manny & Gus', but they're probably something like Francis and Anthony.  They keep up a running conversation in gruff New England accents that would hold up on any comedy club stage, and they're more than happy to include anyone in the conversation if you want to play.  I do, and it's sometimes the highlight of the day.  I should find out their real names before it's too late.  

Every weekend for years, rain or shine, a man brings his drum, flags, and anti-war signs and sits peacefully in front of the town green, across from Town Hall.  I don't know him, or his name, but I admire his staunch personal statement and give him a little toot with my horn and shoot him a peace sign.  He nods and waves back, and I think about the 'butterfly effect'  and hope it is at play in this instance. [Simply put, the idea that small actions may create large effects.]  

One of my favorite new checkers at Stop & Shop is also now on my list of favorite characters.  He's a diminutive man with a lovely British accent, long, blonde hair, and perfectly manicured nails, always a different bright color.  I always greet him, "Hello, my friend!" and his eyes light up ready to chat cleverly about this and that.  Sometimes, if I remember to bring canvas bags in with me, he gives me a star.  It's the little things.

And, my all-time favorite character, who we lost more than a year ago, made a surprise appearance on the Eastham Chamber of Commerce Facebook page this month.  

One of my photos of our friend, Ray, holding an enormous lobster from one of his traps, has currently become the face of Eastham.  The odd thing is that I submitted it years ago for consideration in the annual Eastham guide and is only now being chosen for a different project, so it came as a lovely surprise to all.  My special characters continue to come and go, fading in and out of memory, but always enriching my life.  Perhaps I'm even a colorful character for someone, too.  But now, back to the Prequels:

2010-Adventures on the Cape #3 & #4 -The First Month

Coast Guard Beach in Eastham

A whole month has literally evaporated as we have settled in, turning our dream house into a home.  With every familiar item put into place, it feels as if we were always here, and the images of our last home fades a little more. 

“You know you live on the Cape when…” you find a starfish in your driveway. Amongst the wildlife we consider our Eastham neighbors, are a bevy of swans that live in the salt marshes of Nauset Harbor, between the Mid-Cape highway and the Atlantic Ocean.  We have counted up to 8, who are usually there in any weather.  Groups of swans are also known as teams, and we always thought Eastham Swans would make a great town baseball team name.  I can just see the jerseys, now, with big, feathered wings attached to the back that flap as you run bases, and a large-billed cap.

There are road signs cautioning about deer, and indeed, we have seen many prints in the front yard snow, but I have yet to catch them in the act.  It has become a nightly ritual to flip on the yard lights at odd hours to personally welcome them, but my timing is still off.

It seems that every town on the Cape has its own individual weather system.  It may be raining in Hyannis, but be a perfect beach day in Truro.  Chatham is known for its fog banks that roll in, and Eastham tends to be more windy than most.  It makes for dandy kite-flying, and when it snows, the flakes dance in all directions and drift in abstract sculptures.

I am aware, as I do my errands during the day, that I frequently have an excited grin on my face as I’m thinking, “this is me, going to the post office”, “this is me in my new grocery store”, “this is me getting mail in my new mailbox”.  I’ve decided that it’s an involuntary variation on counting blessings.

Our first paid guests are a Bavarian family therapist named Ursula, her Rottweiler, Tessa, and friend, Tom, who helped them drive here from California.  She is relocating to the Cape, and the house she has purchased unseen online from our real estate agent is in settlement limbo.  We are glad to practice our inn-keeping skills on this very gracious lady, who has been on the road for 10 days, and thrilled to land in our cozy cottage, with a fenced, snowy yard for her doggy to romp in.  It’s also a welcome relief to have money coming in again, as we remain very picky about possible year-round tenants for two other units. 

Salt Pond in Eastham where we keep our "pet swans".

In between setting up housekeeping and errands, I have been indulging in playtime with my camera.  It has taken a backseat to chores for too long, and with so much new eye-candy, it has become a rediscovered pleasure.  Each day brings a new subject of focus.  Today, were the many birds who call our porch and soffits their home, too.  Yesterday, I captured some of the decorative night lights around town.  Before that, the view of snow on the beach from the Fort Hill lookout at the end of our road.  Tomorrow…the swans. 

For more than 20 years, Ron has been trying to get The Chatham Squire to give up the recipe for their Mussels Marinara.  I had to confess after trying it, that it's every bit as delicious as he represented them.  Before Doug and Mark, our friendly moving crew, returned to Virginia, we treated them to dinner there.  Once again, Ron tried to charm the recipe out of them without any success, however, while he excused himself for the restroom, I gave it a try, and the waitress managed to get the chef to write down the basic ingredients.  The proportions were up to me to figure out, but after a lifetime of cooking, I was pretty sure I could handle it.  I presented the list of ingredients, wrapped up as a gift about 2 weeks later and it was probably one of the best surprises I’ve ever pulled off.  That, and the actual pot of marinara, which hit the mark on the first try served with shrimp and a fresh loaf of homemade honey wheat bread.

The windmill on the Eastham Town Green

Today’s big find at the transfer station was a woman’s mountain bike, just my size.  It’s neon pink, but I can forgive that since it’s also free.

With constant tending of our ads on craigslist, we have now secured more than acceptable tenants for both one-bedroom apartments.  Ellen manages a program for Barnstable County Schools which matches high school students as interns with businesses.  Upstairs will be Ginny, an office worker for an engineering company.  My sister says I sound more like a social worker than a rental agent, but when your tenants are also your neighbors, they need to be people you don’t feel like avoiding when you see them.    

A friend who knows my fondness for snow called last weekend to say I must have been a very good girl because it was snowing again.  Indeed, if flurries count, I have definitely done something right.  I’m told that it doesn’t usually snow this much, but then I'm also hearing a lot of moaning about frigid temps coming from much farther south of here.  If there is any credence to this, either I have been very good, or a lot of people have been very bad.  You decide,I have snowflakes to catch on my nose.  Wishing all a steamy cup of hot chocolate, a crackling fire and warm thoughts.

Snow on the beach...does it get any more magical? 
Icy Cape Cod Bay at First Encounter Beach

2010-Adventures on the Cape-#4 Cape Update

Many thanks to all who have written to say they enjoy my updates, and asked me if I have ever considered writing.  The answer is, yes, and I do whenever it suits me.  The difference is monetary compensation.   In order to rate that, I’m sure I would have to suffer editing and deadlines, and wouldn’t that just take the fun right out of something I enjoy doing?  That my pleasure actually brightens someone’s day has been fair enough compensation for total artistic freedom, however, if you wish, please feel free to send money!  Kidding, of course.

Here in semi-retirement, the days are beginning to take some form, although more amoebic than predictable.  The clock radio is set to a respectable 7:00 a.m., however, Bob, our golden manx, is still on the earlier VA schedule.  At exactly 6:30, when the sun starts to come over Fort Hill, he begins a reveille of triplets.  ‘Meow’ doesn’t cut it anymore.  For food, he has to perform triplet meow-ow-ow’s, and he does so shamelessly and continuously, until whomever has to go to the bathroom more, finally gets up.  Since there is no clock-in time, what better place is there to fully come awake on a chilly morning than back in bed, now with the blinds open to watch ‘rush hour’ on their way to wherever they go with such purpose.  Pillows plumped up…laptop open to check new messages…local weather report to check for more possible flurries…things to chat about…and the return of the kitties, sated with breakfast, to curl up on a tangle of legs like lead weights.  It’s comfortably luxurious.

We've decided to forego premium T.V channels for now, and signed up for the monthly pass package at Blockbuster, which allows us to rent a video per day for very little.  The downside to this is that by the end of the month, we've pretty much exhausted the good stuff, but Greg, the manager, who refers to us as “the happy couple”, always has a review, or recommendation ready. 

One thing I haven’t quite gotten used to is that nobody locks their doors on the Cape.  It’s a real throwback to the 50’s, or are all small towns still like this?  We have a bowl full of keys to the various rental units to figure out, but none of the tenants seem to care whether their doors lock, or not.   It certainly makes it easy to come and go.  I now feel a little foolish about the pointless, extra key I made to hide outside.

As our first temporary tenant, Ursula and her Rottweiler, Contessa left to move into their new home, our first year-round tenant will be moving into the upstairs apartment.   Our other year-round tenant begins her lease the first of February.  It’s a lovely feeling to be able to help other people find their happy place.  Discrimination is not always a bad word when choosing tenants.  After all, with this compound, we have the opportunity of creating our own mini-neighborhood, and run a business, so it behooves us to be selective.   Among the ones who didn’t make the cut was a self-proclaimed artist, and avid collector of ‘lots of interesting stuff’, and maker of one-gear bikes out of used parts.   We decided he needed a much bigger place somewhere else.   Another rejected wanna-be was a woman whose own friend called us after she had looked at the apartment to warn us that she was “off her meds” and not a good rental prospect.  It wasn’t really necessary to point that out, but the validation did make us feel better.  

Today’s trip to the Harwich Treasure Chest to help Ursula pick up a dining table she had spotted last week netted a beautiful, illustrated edition of Hans Christian Anderson’s fairy tales, a pristine, white Old Navy turtleneck sweater, a signed, framed sketch of “The Flying Cloud” schooner of Newburyport, MA, and some more utilitarian items, all free for the taking, the ultimate in recycling.  The activity level has picked up considerably for the weekend.  

Saturdays frequently begin with a trip to the Eastham Transfer Station to unload trash and recyclables, and their 'free shop' named the Stock Exchange where treasures always await.  I returned to find Ursula in tears, back from her house that still hadn’t settled and didn’t have heat.  Our empathy kicked in after our recent moving experience and moved us to offer her the cottage, as a guest this time, at least until she had heat.  Then, Ginny arrived with her two boys to move things in upstairs.  The boys were enthralled with the cats and Ron’s slot machine, and quickly made themselves at home downstairs while there was much nesting going on above.  Having recently entered empty nest status, it felt nice to have a fresh crop of boys around.  Activities continued with the visit of one of Ron’s old Eastham friends, Chandler, to watch a football game and vie for who could eat more snacks, and catch up.  

With Ron at Chandler’s the next day for more football (and snacks), I became more acquainted with my new kitchen and finally scratched the itch to bake cookies.  Today’s efforts produced a batch of  Cranberry Oatmeal Spice and, another of Peanut Butter cookies and a plate of them will go to our real estate agent, who is returning from Michigan today from his father’s funeral.  Somehow, cookies say more than a card can, i.e. “sorry for your loss, but eat this and you’ll be nicely distracted for a little bit.”   
    

There has been much thawing over the weekend and we are beginning to see large patches of grass, especially after 24 hours of rain.  It was a good day to stay in, and today’s project was working on Ron’s “music room /gym / man-cave” in the basement.  It's now fit for making music with friends, exercise and hibernating. Everyone should have one!  With the rhythm of quiet contentment and simple purpose finding its own tempo, it’s a good time to bring this update to a close, remembering that nothing stays the same forever, and to appreciate moments at a time.     

Fort Hill under a winter sky