This, That and Serenity

So here it is, August, and random ness reigns supreme.

* I didn't take any new garden photos today. There wasn't anything new blooming and the business of developing them on a color-blind monitor is starting to get on my nerves a little.

* Why, Hillary, why? No one's sorrier than I that you weren't able to go the distance against Barack, but I'm making my peace with it. So why must you continue to torment me with daily emails? Don't make me Spam you.

* Forty years ago, the three year old Me was preparing to become a big brother. Happy Birthday, Suz!!

* As a writer, I ought to know better, but I can't help feeling a little betrayed when a word like "always" changes its meaning from something soft and comforting like a feather bed to something that sounds rather more like a prickly prison sentence.

* This afternoon, while casting some worries onto the out-going tide, I spotted a great blue heron in the marsh along Rock Creek. Of course I thought of my friend who sees such occasions as omens of uncertain meaning and couldn't help smiling.

I don't know what to make of it exactly, from an omens-standpoint, except it was probably a sure sign that the fishing was good following the recent high tide. However, since the ancient Egyptians used a drawing of a heron as the base for their depiction of the Phoenix, I'm going to go ahead and assume this means bright things for the Future.

* In the meantime, "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things that I can and wisdom to know the difference."

That's an excerpt from something called the Serenity Prayer, which many of you may already be familiar with. It's a handy thing to have in your knapsack, I've found, even if the origin of it is somewhat in question.

A Rocky Harbor on a Shifting Shore

Here's a few bonus photos to share with you from yesterday. It was such a lovely day that it seemed a shame to head right home after work, so I decided to kick around the Rock Harbor area for a little while.

Now, I know that I often share photos of the bay from Rock Harbor, clouds, sunsets, beach people and boats, but I've never really shared much context.

I'm most often standing out on the breakwater where that guy is in this picture (for a change, I was shooting from the other side).

While many of you certainly have the capacity to go "Oooh, pretty" without worrying yourselves too much, it's possible that one or two of you have sat back and thought, "Where the heck is this Rock Harbor Greg's always talking about?"

And so I put a dot on this satellite photo of Cape Cod to give you some sense of just what place I'm talking about. A red dot, which you can see more clearly if you enlarge the image.

I just love the way they sketch in the outlines of the Cape, as though our sandy edges were not shifting every time the tide turns or the wind blows.

Of course, it then occurs to me that this does nothing to answer the question, "Where the heck is Cape Cod, anyway?" and so for those of you who're troubled by that one, I've taken this larger satellite photo of the northeast USA and added a cute little arrow and a dot each for the approximate locations of New York City and Boston for orientation. This shot gets bigger, too.

So that's us, sticking fifty miles or so out to sea.

(And it further occurs to me that the truly geographically challenged amongst you can now go load up your Google Earth accounts if you're still a little lost.)

Anyway, the harbor, with its marina and picturesque break waters on Cape Cod Bay, is located just north of inside "elbow" of the Cape, at the mouth of Rock Harbor Creek. The creek weaves its way from there through the salt marsh behind the harbor nearly to Route 6 and the ocean beyond.

Thanks to the Orleans Historical Society, we know that it used to look like this and also like this.

I've been stopping by Rock Harbor for years now, since it was long on my regular commute to and from work and the parking lot at the boat launch offers easy access to nice views. Since last fall, it's been slightly out of the way, but old habits die hard and its such a beautiful spot to visit. When I visited this time, I went the long way around, down Governor Prence road to the marina side, where there's a second boat launch ramp.

That road, like so many out here, bisects the salt marsh behind the marina, but it seems well-culverted to keep the life of the marsh going anyway.

Did you know that salt marshes rival rainforests as one of the planets most biologically productive habitats?

I've always been fascinated with the way salt marshes absorb the debris of the oceans, all the decaying plant and fish life to be used to bring new life in the way of a few plants who begin to grab hold, and cause new land to be formed, as plant roots begin to fight the erosions of the tide.



No matter how careful we are, there are always casualties in the places where the natural world and the human world (who ever thought to seperate them in the first place?), and I found these odd remains on the edge of the road when I stopped for my photos.

I'm not an experienced birder, or perhaps I'd be able to recognize the species here. I get the impression that it could've been some youngster who was maybe run over, since there's a frozen aspect here that seems like a moment from time, when it made an ill-timed effort to dash across the road. Of course, it can't be more than an impression, since all that remains here is essentially a cave painting done in feather and bone.

Check out the far side of this marsh, where the land has long ago been reclaimed from sand, and the marsh's work has allowed a transition to be made, and a small bit of forest is born.

On one side of the Cape, the sand washes away with each new tide. On the other side, new land is formed. In between there's life and death. And it's going on all the time. I often think that this is what I love about Cape Cod. No matter how long I've been here, there's always this sense of change in progress. Even the ever-changing motels and gift shops and other businesses sort of underscore the theme.

I like it. I mean, nothing ever really stays the same, anyway. That's just an illusion we create when we're not paying attention to the world around us. At least here, you get the reminders that it's always happening. The birds and the whales come and go with the seasons, and so do the people. A shifting sandbar, channels that need dredging, old homes washed away in ocean storms, new ones built at the fringes of the marsh. The change just goes on and on.

There's something comforting about that, somehow.

Morning View

The view from Bridge Road, looking east across Boat Meadow Creek in Eastham, around 7:00 a.m.

Boat Creek: Two Shots

In both photos, we're looking west toward Cape Cod Bay over Boat Creek Marsh from Bridge Road in Eastham. The photo above was taken about 1:30 p.m. yesterday. The photo below was taken around noontime today. Quite a contrast, eh?

Monday's Happy Conclusion

We had a rainy start to the day, with showers from dawn. It all reached a fairly heavy finish around lunchtime...and as the hours passed, the sun appeared...and in fact, we're ending today with our high temperature of 60.

On the way home from work, I detoured up to Fort Hill, for a look out over the Atlantic. It turned out the view was being carefully guarded.


This pretty gray bird was perched in some wild roses and singing a very sweet song.

I had thought, from my quick inspection, that it might be a mockingbird, but the picture isn't as clear on the details as I might've liked...and my memory doesn't quite match up with any of the photos in my bird book.

Anyway, it flew off after only a moment or two.

Ah, but what a view remained!

The leftover clouds from the morning's storm really accentuated our big sky...and well, what do you need me to say anything for. Just look at it!


In the distance to the north, you can see the Eastham Coast Guard station.

Meanwhile, back in our garden, another new daffodil has joined the fray.

Our peaceful pond at the feet of evening.

A Rainy Friday

I woke up to the sound of rain on the roof and the sensation a cat climbing onto my back and settling in. This was all the encouragement I needed to snuggle in against my pillow a little longer. And before long, there were a few rumbles of thunder to seal the deal.

It wasn't really a day to sleep in, though, so before long I was up and seeing just how heavy the morning's rain was. We had two such storms to book-end our day, though the one which blew through around dinnertime was certainly more intense, as regards the lightning and thunder.

I always enjoy the first big boomer of the season, and this one was pretty impressive. Not only were there buckets of rain dropping from the sky, but lots of lightning strikes to thrill to, as well.

No other complaints about the rain. The trees certainly seem to be loving it, as they are all budding out with tiny new leaf shoots and flower buds.

Here's a picture of a tree I love near the parking lot of Seaman's Bank at Brackett Farm here in Eastham. I'm not exactly sure what the species is, and no one I've asked has been able to identify it for me. My suspicions are that it's a tulip tree, or perhaps a catawpa (but I'm not even sure I'm spelling the latter right, so there's the sum total of my knowledge on the subject..). Anyway, it's a beauty!

Another wild and untamed forsythia, with a nice big clump of yucca as a neighbor. These two make their home along Massasoit Road in Eastham.

Here's the foggy view to the southwest across First Encounter Marsh.