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

2019 JANUARY IN EASTHAM and introducing THE PRE-QUELS - 2009 - #1 & #2 - North to Eastham, The Trip

Winter sunset

Soooo, it's January, 2019, and it's "quiet time" on Cape Cod, my favorite season, a time for a rejuvenating rest from the busy summer and the holidays, a time to reflect on what we've learned, and a time of planning for the next season.  In particular this month, I've been reflecting on our adventures getting to Cape Cod, and in re-reading them seeing how much we've already forgotten as we've filled our days with a brand new life.  So, I'm going to start the new year with something I meant to do a long time ago, fill in the story of how we got here in the first place.  This journal began as a promise to friends and family in Virginia that I would keep in touch and tell them about this exotic place I was going to live.  Honestly, if I hadn't kept a journal, I'd have forgotten many of the details that have colored this ongoing adventure.  So, in honoring the request to keep in touch and describe what it's like to live here, it has become a gift to myself, as well.  In contrast to the later posts, the Prequels are full of wonder and discovery at everything new.  After nine years, there is still much to discover, but my wash-ashore status is noticeably less.

January is when the bluebirds come back to take advantage of our heated birdbaths.
This year's crop arrived Saturday, January 26th.

Last month was the 119th Annual Cape Cod Christmas Bird Count, which has been described as Citizen Science at Its Best. The goal is to record as complete a sample as possible of the wintering birds in a 15 mile circle to keep track of wintering bird populations over time.  The Cape and Islands has six of these counts in different locations, including Eastham.  There's some friendly competition among the hobbyists to see which location can record the most species.  In good years, a local count may tally over 130 species in one day.  These are dedicated birders who do this rain or shine. 

[Taken from The Weekly Bird Report on WCAI]

As the land mass narrows going north on Cape Cod, the three main roads converge at a rotary that connects the town of Orleans and Eastham.  When I moved here nine years ago, I found that there were many residents who lived in towns south of the rotary who considered anything north of it to be the wild unknown.  In fact, historians show that the rotary was at one time a body of water called Jeremiah's Gulch that required a boat to continue north.  So it's only fitting that one of the first places you come to as you enter Eastham is the appropriately named Wild Care, which started when a local woman and a few volunteers began taking in and helping injured animals at her home. It officially became a non-profit organization in 1993 and moved to the current Eastham property in 2004.  Through contributions and fundraisers, they now boast pools, a heated Jacuzzi, x-ray technology and 3 cameras to monitor the recovering animals.  Approximately 27,000 wild animals have been assisted so far with a 46% success rate, and there are more than 230 volunteers and 8 full time staff.  275 different species have been treated, including sea birds, reptiles, mammals, birds of prey, and others which are brought to their attention by people who happen upon the wild animals in trouble and call the 24/7 helpline. [Information taken from The Cape Codder]

Learn more at:  Wild Care Cape Cod

It wouldn't be January if the subject of weather didn't eventually come up.  The jury is still out on what kind of winter it will be here.  Although storms have weekly been  causing havoc from the west to the east coast, and then north, we've yet to see more than a flurry and a scant inch on the Cape.  Disappointing for me, but a relief for many others.  We still have pansies blooming, but it's too early to predict if I'll get to wear my snow boots.  In the meantime, here are some fun science facts about snow, courtesy of the Marie Mitchell Museum on Nantucket that you can enjoy in total comfort whether you have snow, or not:      

FUN SCIENCE FACTS ABOUT SNOW

Sure, it’s fun to play in, to throw, and to make snow angels – and maybe not so fun to shovel – but, as hardy New Englanders, snow is part of our winter landscape. While you’re watching those flakes come down this year, here are some interesting facts to think about.

1. Snow is translucent, not white. Snow is made up of ice particles, which are colorless.

2. Each winter in the United States alone, at least 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 snowflakes fall from the sky.

3. Not every storm that produces snow is a blizzard. In order to be classified as a blizzard, winds must be at least 35 mph and visibility must be reduced by snowfall to less than .25 miles for at least three hours.

4. Other types of snowstorms include snow squalls and snow bursts.

5. Snowflakes always have six sides. The water molecules that form snowflakes can only fit together to form six-sided crystals.

6. In 1988, Nancy Knight, a scientist for the National Center for Atmospheric Research, observed two snowflakes that were exactly the same. The snowflakes came from a snowstorm in Wisconsin.

7. Snow is a mineral, according to the National Snow & Ice Data Center, because it’s a solid that is naturally occurring and inorganically formed.

A beautiful January afternoon on Cape Cod Bay

Although this is supposed to be the quiet time, we've hosted three groups of guests this month, all just looking for a break from their daily routines.  One couple even came from Florida and probably passed many Cape Codder "snowbirds' on the road escaping the cold in hopes of some Florida sunshine.  

And, there's a lot of this going on here in January:

The New England Patriots head to their ninth Super Bowl

And now, the Prequels Part I & 2

    
     December 2009 - North to Eastham – Part 1 – The Trip

The definition of the word travail is ‘painful, or laborious effort’.  It is also the origin of the word travel, a word we more commonly associate with much more pleasant connotations.  Although reaching our destination of Eastham, MA has proved to be all we had hoped, the actual move from Richmond, VA epitomized the word, travail.   It is not without noting that from the time we fell in love with our new home to the day we signed papers and were presented the keys, it took close to 9 months, and also felt very much like giving birth to a new life, complete with labor pains.  It took selling 3 homes in the worst real estate market of our lifetimes, settling an estate, and transferring way too many possessions in a caravan which consisted of a 24’ moving van, 2 additional vehicles, 4 people and 2 bewildered cats, a distance of 500+ miles through several large cities on I-95. 

Our last weekend in Virginia was spent partly in Alexandria at my niece’s wedding.  We should have been home preparing for the move, but wouldn’t have missed the family gathering for anything.   We had spent the week before moving down all the boxes of things that had been banished to the attic while showing the house, and trotting back and forth to the Fedex office with more and more forms that the settlement company came up with, daily to sign, notarize, fax and overnight to them.   On the Monday after the wedding, we closed on one of the two houses that should have settled that day, picked up the moving van and began loading.   On Tuesday, at the last moment, we closed on the other house and continued loading, but it was apparent that due to the constant interruptions from the settlement company, we would not be finished by the end of the day, nor would we have enough room to take all of our things.   The weather forecast for Wednesday, our scheduled day to drive, was torrential rain and gusty winds, all the way up the coast.   A quick call to our realtor and a lot of begging bought us another night at the house from our buyers, most of which was spent trying to finish loading in the already pouring rain.  With nothing left to sleep on, we finally checked into a motel in the wee hours of the next morning for a few hours of rest before the drive.  We returned to the house with bleary eyes to resolve loading and dispursing the last of our possessions, which was only accomplished by abandoning many of them.  Two loads to Goodwill, a load to the dump and many disbursements to friends and neighbors-later, we collected the cats and got on the road about 3 p.m.   This, after only a couple of hours of sleep…

Our caravan consisted of Ron, driving the moving van, fortified by a cooler full of Starbucks Doubleshot Expressos, our friend, Mark, driving Ron’s pickup truck, which was also fully loaded, and my son, Doug, driving my car, with me and two, very upset cats.  After watching their world shrink for 8 months, first to stage and show the house, then the rest packed into boxes and disappearing one by one into a truck, then stuffed into a loud and vibrating car, they were not at all sure about the outcome of their predicament.  With several stops for gas and food, coordinated by cell phones, we managed to pull into our motel in Hyannis by about 2 a.m., only to find that despite the information on the website, the cats were not welcome.  The clerk was kind enough to find Ron & I a room down the street that would also take the cats, so we left Doug & Mark there and returned to the car.  Unfortunately, the door to the cat carrier sprang open on the way, releasing Newfie, the black cat, to streak across the parking lot into the bushes against the motel, which were full of thorns.  Thankfully, he decided that the car looked like a better bet than me stomping and cursing through thorns, and he willingly returned.  As I gazed up at the street light in the parking lot, it began to flurry.  That, somehow, made the very long and tense trip feel fresh and hopeful again.  Several hours later, in the Barnstable Courthouse, with Mark and Doug cat-sitting, we signed the final papers, got keys, and finally went home.

North to Eastham – Part 2 - Honey, We’re Home

It took 2 days for Ron, Mark & Doug to unload everything, and my time was consumed by emptying and flattening boxes as fast as I could and placing things where I was most likely to be able to find them again.  My inherent tendency to create order from chaos definitely had me in my element.   While I plowed through the stacks they left me, Ron took the guys for a brief tour of our town’s First Encounter Beach on Cape Cod Bay, where they learned the joy of letting the stiff wind support them, with arms outstretched like airplanes.  First Encounter is named for the Mayflower Pilgrims’ first meeting with the native Wampanoag Indians.  Not wanting to take unfair advantage of my helpers, who had worked both tirelessly and cheerfully, we took the next day off to show them some of the reasons why we had chosen to live in this place. 

We all piled into the truck and drove down Cape to Provincetown, the farthest point north, passing through the scenic towns of Wellfleet and Truro.   The quaintness and constant proximity to water is what draws everyone to this area, mostly in the summer, but we find that winter brings its own special beauty and peacefulness to the small beach towns, and year-rounders have plenty of opportunities for entertainment of all kinds.   We had a delicious lunch at JoMama’s,  cruised for bargains in the most eclectic of shops and contemplated the wild beauty of the ocean at Race Point before returning to eat lobster rolls from the local Stop & Shop for dinner.   We never take for granted that our days now begin and end in a place that most people come to for only a week, or two, and wish they could stay longer.    It took about a week to become acclimated to the feeling that we would not have to leave, too. 

The cats, thrilled to be out of the car, and rediscovering their favorite furniture, smells and comfy spots, made themselves right at home exploring all the new nooks and crannies, smells and sights.  We’re all childishly delighted, after living at the bottom of a hill and surrounded by the forest, by now having a distant view of the Mid-Cape highway from our front windows.  The back windows look out on an open porch, surrounded by trellises covered in wisteria and roses, and birds, lots of birds.  I have made sure the bird feeders are full.  We tend to think of each window as a different T.V. channel.

Getting Settled

There is a delicate balance to changing from one location to another, and one must pre-determine this domino effect, or end up just spinning wheels.  For instance, the weather forecast was for snow, lots of snow.  The yard was covered with piles of flattened boxes, which were constantly being rearranged by the incoming Alberta Clipper, and needed to be taken to the dump before they got buried under the predicted 18” of snow.  But, one must have a town dump sticker for that, which requires proof of residency, which requires a new driver’s license and tags, which first require proof of new car insurance.  That took about 3 days to accomplish, which was just in time for the blizzard that covered most of the east coast.   MA is more prepared to deal with snow than VA, and though the snow was higher than my new boots, the promptly plowed roads were just fine to drive by the next day.   Luckily, with the help of our real estate agent, and new friend, Alan, Ron was able to find a great deal on a new snow blower just hours before the deluge. 

And now, a tribute to Cape dumps, or transfer stations, as they are called:  they are a recycler’s dream-come-true.  Not only is there a place to dispose of every possible item, each town has its own section to bring things that are too good to throw away, but aren’t wanted anymore.  Anyone can leave things, or take things, and they each have names.  Eastham’s is the Swap Shop, or Stock Exchange.  Harwich is the Treasure Chest, and so on.  They’re a great place to look for something you need, or to upgrade something you already have, not to mention get rid of things you no longer want.   I quickly found a bulletin board to replace the one I had to leave behind and dropped off several boxes of unwanted household items left by our sellers.

Another task was choosing a new bank and opening new accounts.  In our minds, there was no other choice than the Cape Cod Five, in business since 1855, originally The Cape Cod Five Cents Savings Bank.  The woman who opened our accounts was none other than Paige Pennypacker.   Talk about the right name for the job…

We chose the town of Eastham for its mid-Cape location and its lack of people-drawing commerce.  It is, however, only a mile and a half to the Orleans rotary, where we can find almost anything we want, or certainly whatever we need.   A word about rotaries:  they’re not as confusing as one first thinks after learning the simple rule.  Drivers inside the rotary have the right of way; drivers wanting to enter the rotary yield until they can take their place on the merry-go-round.  The beauty of rotaries is that if you miss your turnoff, you just go around again until you see the right one.  The danger is the out-of-towners who aren’t used to them.  ‘Nuff said.   Eastham’s main commercial area consists mainly of the Town Hall, fire station, post office, library, information center (open in summer), the Eastham Superette (wonderful sandwiches made fresh to order), Windmill Park, various restaurants, motels and rental cottages, and of course, the entrance to the Cape Cod National Seashore, created in 1961 by President John F, Kennedy, and run by the National Parks Service.  Our neighborhood is called Fort Hill.  It was never actually a fort, but boasts a magnificent lookout over Nauset Harbor, the salt marshes, and beyond to the Atlantic Ocean.  It’s a favorite meeting spot for year-rounders to come to sip morning coffee, take a lunch break or for quiet contemplation, or fitness walks on the walking and bike trails, anytime.  On the 3/10^th of a mile walk from our home to the lookout, we pass the famous Captain Penniman House, a French Second Empire style home, built in 1868 by a whaling captain, and noted for the whalebone jaws in the front yard.

On Tuesday, all too soon, it was time to take Mark & Doug to Logan airport in Boston.  We had planned the early evening flights so that we could spend the day showing them the big city where we both used to live.  But, no one really wanted to leave Eastham before they absolutely had to, and our timing backfired as we were forced to brave rush hour traffic to get to their flights.  Next to South Koreans, Boston is known for its crazy drivers, and Tuesday was no exception.  Despite some close calls and an unscheduled detour on the Mass Pike heading west, we made it back intact.  

And, now that the holidays are nearing an end, our attention turns to finding good tenants for the rental units.  The B&B idea has sensibly faded into more of a seasonal or year round scenario, a work smarter, not harder philosophy, however, depending on availability of our guest quarters, we may dabble when it suits us.  Each day of sorting, rearranging and exploring brings us closer to feeling more at home than guests.  We like to think of ourselves as the current caretakers of this wonderful property that others have tended before us.  We look forward to seeing the surprises that each season brings and welcoming friends to share it with us.