SIGNS OF THE TIMES

What I like best about this sign on a lawn near my house was it did not specify who to impeach. Thus it implied we should impeach everyone. Clearly a homemade sign, it remained on their front yard until after Obama's inauguration, then disappeared. This is Massachusetts.

November Woods

A still life of our November woods. Nice to live in a photogenic environment.

HOME

Living in the woods brings some problems with it. When the leaves fall, they infiltrate the house. They come in through the door, attached to the dogs' coats. You find them everywhere, in places you can't imagine them getting.

Trees produce pollen. Lots of it. Even if you aren't normally allergic, the air is so full of pollen it can look like it's snowing ... and that much particulate stuff in the air is going to cause irritations to the breathing apparatus of anything that breathes.

Pollen is one kind of particulate, but there are plenty more. It adds up to a level of dust and dirt that's hard to imagine. You can't clean fast enough to keep up with it, even if you clean all the time. Eventually you give in and adopt the attitude that dust is a protective layer provided my nature.

Between the dog hair, the pollen and the dust ... your standards have to come down to earth. Reality bites, but comes the Autumn, for a month and some, it's so beautiful for once, you lose your breath to the beauty, not the stuff floating in the air.

SUNSET ON BARNSTABLE BEACH

BOARDING

CALLING OF THE GRASS

GOING HOME

Not sorry to leave this place, but sorry to be leaving Cape Cod. Nice, though, that it's close enough to come anytime on a day trip. Sometimes we forget it's just a little more than an hour away ... with no traffic. And it's good to be "not at home" no matter where else it is. A change of scenery is good for the soul.

I'm always afraid what I'll find when I get home. A thousand pounds of junk mail, hysterical dogs, half a foot of matted dog hair, urgent messages on the answering machine, scary messages on the answering machine. What will be will be. I just hope that nothing awful is waiting for me. Please, let there not be something awful.

PUMPKIN PATCH IN YARMOUTH

We went exploring, not knowing where we would wind up. Never has this failed me. There always something and today was no exception.

Driving along Route 28 through South Yarmouth was the biggest, most luscious pumpkin patch I've ever seen. I've seen a few. This was the best yet.

The pumpkin patch belongs to the church. They grow pumpkins then sell them in October to raise money for the church. An interesting variation on the classic bake sale. They have one of those, too. Next week.

Charlie Brown would definitely approve.

HINTING AT BLUE, HANGING ON HOPE

I am blue this morning. More accurately, this afternoon. The hands of the clock have crept along past the noon hour into the afternoon. The heavy machinery which is rebuilding the parking lot have temporarily ground to a halt so the guys can eat their lunch. I rarely envy Garry his hearing problems, but on days like this when noise makes sleep impossible (do they really have to start at 6 AM?), it doesn't seem so bad.

Lots of little things are nagging at me. Like termites gnawing the edges of my brain. I'm in a place where I can  - with effort - kick myself until I stop moping. But it takes effort. Why am I blue? I'm sure this miserable excuse for a resort is part of it. Especially not having a comfortable bed. I can forgive a lot if the bed is good.

Then there's the realization this is the only vacation we'll get this year. It could have been worse. It could have been a fantastic resort, but rained all week. Or one of us could have come down with flu. Both have happened and you don't even get to blame the Front Desk. And it also could have been a lot better. I would have welcomed a little pampering. It's been a rough decade and then some.

There's always a let down at the end of a vacation - any vacation - when you know you have to go home to face whatever crap you left behind. It's waiting. In our case, there's a lot of stuff waiting and it has fangs and claws.

Still, it isn't worse than it was. Nothing got worse while we were away - or so I fondly believe. I've been taking care of business. I don't want to jinx myself, but the issues are dire enough it doesn't seem likely to get much worse, short of me up and dying. That would affect me less than those around me - a scenario we would all rather avoid. I don't have life insurance, so keeping me alive is a better deal for all concerned, though I sometimes wonder about me. I wish I believed in heaven. Something to look forward to.

I should buy lottery tickets. Someone has to win, right? I need hope.

I'm looking for a silver lining. I always look for one or two up there in the sky, but in my experience, clouds are lined with rain or snow, not silver. They're just clouds. Puffy vapor floating around in the blue yonder. They do not come bearing news, good or ill. Nor does good news come disguised as bad. Good stuff announces itself with trumpets, bells and brass bands. Bad news? Never any danger of missing it, No, uh uh. You can always tell when a piano falls on your head. Assuming you retain consciousness long enough to look up and say "Where did THAT come from?"

Today is half way between depression and blah. I'm not totally dispirited, but I'm not exactly jumping with joy. Maybe that's as good as I should expect these days. Lacking imminent threat of demise, foreclosure or other life catastrophe, 'tis enough. t'will serve. Thank you Will Shaxper.

TOMORROW AND TOMORROW

We are classically conflicted. Bummed by the wretched lodgings, enchanted by the beauty of the Cape. Itchy to be back in familiar -- comfortable -- surroundings. But glad to be away from the daily dilly dally. It may be a not-exactly-perfect vacation, but it is a vacation. We won't get another for a year or more. Not to mention there's some seriously rough weather ahead. High seas and gale force winds on the horizon.

I tend to think that what's happening to me is about me, but then I stop and think and realize what happens to me also happens to Garry. And, to some degree, happens to my family and friends. We are so interconnected. So dependent on each other. Our lives are not lived independently. We are not islands, not even peninsulas.

No Man Is An Island

No man is an island,

Entire of itself,

Every man is a piece of the continent,

A part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea,

Europe is the less.

As well as if a promontory were.

As well as if a manor of thy friend's

Or of thine own were:

Any man's death diminishes me,

Because I am involved in mankind,

And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; 

It tolls for thee. 

-- John Donne

It is, to put it in the modern fashion, complicated. Very complicated.

Fortunately, some things are simple. You just sit there and wait until whatever is wrong sets itself right. Or not. Because you can't do anything about it anyway. Helplessness is the ultimate simplicity.

As an example, my computer just crashed. Nothing small. Blue to black screen to CHKSCRN where it announced my registry and file system were experiencing Problems. Not something one wants to see on the monitor. It suggested I wait while it checked itself for errors. Like I'm going to argue with it.

It proceeded to check itself for errors. Find errors in the file system, registry, disconnected packets? Orphaned data? Then it said it was putting itself together properly (did I detect a note of reproach? Is this my fault? Have I been a bad computer mommy?)

It repaired itself, announced "I am all better now. Please wait while I reboot."

Bing, Bong. Reboot.

"Hello, I'm your laptop. All better now. Please go right ahead with whatever you were doing" -- which is this thing I'm writing.

Effectively, my computer just had a stroke. It took itself to the hospital, performed surgery -- on itself. It healed, and went back to work. Who says Windows 7 isn't cool?

I still don't know what we are going to do tomorrow. I think we'll explore. Maybe we'll find someplace we've never seen or perfect dunes. With just a hint of giant sandworm.

EVENTIDE ON THE CAPE

One of the more entertaining challenges for photographers is venturing out of our comfort zones. To try taking pictures under conditions which are less that ideal.

I wanted to do sunsets -- always problematic on this piece of Atlantic coastline. From anywhere on the east coast getting a clear view of the western sky can be tricky. Or impossible.

So it proved. I had hoped by virtue of a hook of the land the view from Barnstable's beaches might provide a partial view of the setting sun, but a rise of land blocked it. We got colors, but no sun.

The other places from which we might have gotten the picture were universally located on properties that forbid stopping for any reason (you can get a ticket -- or hauled to jail -- for getting flat tire and needing to change it), much less parking and trooping around with cameras. The very rich like their privacy. I'm surprised they let us drive through at all. Ultimately, we wound up -- as expected -- on one of Barnstable's public beach areas. It was lovely, duney and included parking. Even a lighthouse and a view of the ferries ... but no west facing view of the sky.

Our next photographic issue was shooting handheld in very low light. We continued shooting after the sun was gone. I'm surprised so many pictures came out so well. We are better than we think we are, and so, apparently, is our equipment. It rose to the occasion.

It was twilight and light fades fast. We needed to get started if we were going to grab a piece of the light. There were other luscious views to shoot. I think Garry grabbed the best pieces, but mine aren't so bad. I'm going to present Garry's pictures in a separate post since they demand their own space.

These bunch are mine, the type of pictures Tourist Boards like to put on calendars and postcards. Pretty. Cape Cod is definitely very pretty.

HYANNIS - THE INNER HARBOR

I admit I wasn't expecting the Cape to be quite so busy in mid October. I remember when the entire area including the Islands closed the day after Labor Day. One day it was high season. The next day you'd be lucky to find a restaurant that was still open for business.

Cape Cod is no longer a summer-only venue. It's commutable from Boston and open all year. And downright busy this time of year. Crowded.

The fishing boats are running full from the piers and everything is open for business. The transformation has been fast. It was just ten years ago when beaches and towns were deserted by the time the leaves were changing.

No more. So come on down. The weather's fine and with luck, you can find a parking space for free! On the Cape, free parking is as good as it gets.