A Cape Cod kinda mornin’

As much as I enjoy puttering around in the garden in the mornings, the soggy chill of the air today invited me to briskly take care of the plants, and then dive back in to the house for a warm shower.  Right now, Winter battles with Spring for clear dominance as the seasons resistantly begin to change.  The daffodils, dripping heavily with the morning dew, signal what hopefully will be a cheery day to come.

 

Walking in today, the fog had mostly dissipated, leaving behind a crisp chill reminiscent of my childhood on the Cape.  I used to love mornings like this – so calm and so quiet.  On mornings like this, I would often be down by the beach.  As the low tide revealed the basin of the bay, various objects would bear witness to the fishing trade of the town.  Broken buoys, lobster pots, and other sailing and fishing paraphernalia lay scattered about the sand.  In a way, walking the beach was always a treasure hunt.  Yesterday’s trash became today’s oddities.  I really have to wonder about the people of my grandmother’s generation.  It really was absolutely nothing for them to throw away their trash in the bay.  What self-absorbed people the Victorians and Edwardians must have been!  Thinking about the future generations was simply not the top priority in an industrial age of disposability and personal status.  But… I digress.

 

Broken pieces of pottery, china, clay pipes, etc., still appear in handfuls along the beach.  Fortunately, nearly a century of churning have transformed most of these jagged items into smooth trinkets.  I remember the last time Giles and I visited a couple of years ago, we collected a little bagful of interesting items in no time at all.  Artists on the Cape have used such local resources in their artwork.  I have seen everything from sculpture to furniture decorated with colorful beach glass and other items that the bay has surrendered.  Fortunately, nature manages to clean up (at least partially) after us foolish irresponsible human beings.

 

I really need to get back to the Cape sometime in the next year or two.  I’m missing my home town.