This line from John Masefield has always been resonant to me, since long before this Michigander ever encountered an ocean. It continues, “…the lonely sea, and the sky… and all I ask is a tall ship… and a star to steer her by”
I’m just back from a place of seas, bays, sounds, creeks where ‘herrings’ (alewives) ‘run’ (swim in forceful schools) in the spring, limitless marshlands crossed on planks. Yes, I even encountered a tall ship or two, matters piratical, and wild Provincetown and other Cape interpretations of Hallowe’en, as you know from the previous post.
Those among my NJWILDBEAUTY readers who know me personally, know that my major haven, when I had a family, was Chatham, Massachusetts. West Chatham, Harding’s Beach, to be exact. A tiny grey-shingled single-floored house on Nantucket Sound, from which I could walk the beach from morning til night, down to Stage Harbor Light. Sometimes, we’d even do it by moonlight. Once, the girls and I even swam it, just to see if we could. We could.
Some of you also know that I lost both my beloved, beautiful, and yes, brilliant (they always want the best and the brightest) daughters to an aggressive cult during the 1980’s. Brainwashing appears to be permanent.
Cults are worse than any Hallowe’en drama — turning all treats for the remainder of life to tricks and/or tragedy.
But beautiful places, strong fellowship, and determined creating of new memories can serve as antidote.
I know because I braved Chatham return with two of The Intrepids last week.
That idyllic place was everything I needed, and THEN some.
You’ll be traveling Chatham and Brewster and Provincetown shores and streets with me in the weeks of this difficult month of the girls’ birthdays.
Fellowship is EVERYTHING!
It’s funny — seems like it was always high tide when we arrived at destinations. True friends can re-think, rearrange, re-plan, and relish every nuance, no matter where, because we’re together.
Haven at Land’s End
You could call our meals “Early Thanksgivings” — especially the Wellfleet Oysters!
Early for Lunch
The above was a meal as predicted drizzle began to sift from oyster skies, after a morning of seeing seals beyond counting upon ‘Chatham bars’, — a major sandbar below the main Chatham lighthouse.
I hope some of the scintillation of my Cape Cod return flashes all around you as you view upcoming mages and read scant words.
I hope that having gone “down to the sea again” with us reminds NJWILDBEAUTY readers of their own major reasons to be thankful that such luminous places persist in our 21st Century.
There may be no more important concept in our time than PRESERVATION.