First Sunday in Advent

Our tradition is to decorate for Christmas the first Sunday in Advent. This year, we got a head start, but, by now, we are finished. 

Stupidly, we left all of our Christmas decorations back in our New Jersey storage unit. This forced us to buy more decorations, albeit on a budget and on a scaled down basis. Below are the results.

Dining Room Table

Living Room

Christmas Tree

Advent Wreath

TSO and I wish you a happy, healthy holiday season.

Gardens Aglow!

The Heritage Museum & Gardens is located on the banks of Shawme Pond in Historic Sandwich. Its 100 acres of gardens feature rhododendrons, hydrangeas, daylilies, hostas, herbs, heather gardens, and more than a thousand varieties of trees, shrubs, and flowers. There is an old car museum and a carousel, too.

We went to the Heritage last night. Although we were too late to see the rhodies and the hydrangea, we were early enough to see the annual Gardens Aglow spectacular. 

Gardens Aglow is an annual celebration of lights that takes place between Thanksgiving and just before Christmas. It reminded us of a scaled down version of A Longwood Christmas, which is the gardens and conservatories of Longwood Gardens in Kennett Square, Pennsylvania, all dressed up for the Christmas season.

After yucky, rainy weather yesterday, the skies cleared for a lovely walk through the gardens last night. The wind stayed away, too. The lights were sweet. 

The Windmill 

Tulips

In addition to a large windmill, there was a train that ran over the George Washington Bridge over above the Hudson River and the Sagamore Bridge above the Cape Cod Canal.

The GW Bridge With Windmill in Background

There were basic lights and whimsical lights, but all were entertaining and uplifting.

Spheres

Raining Color!

Presidential Limousine for President Taft
(Seeing the cars made TSO happy)

Unfortunately, the most spectacular sight could not be captured with our cell phone cameras. (See, there still is a use for standard cameras.) We went through a grove of trees that were lighted by laser pointer lights that danced on the tree trunks and limbs and the ground cover. It looked like the grove was filled with colorful fireflies from the ground to the tops of the trees through which we could see also see the bright, shining stars in the night sky. It was absolutely magical -- and romantic!

I highly recommend Gardens Aglow. Unfortunately, it sells out early. We were fortunate to have purchased our tickets many months ago.

Giving Thanks

Yesterday was Thanksgiving. It was a beautiful day here in East Sandwich. The sky was bright blue, and, although the temperature was only in the lower 40s, there was no wind, which took away the bite that lower temperatures can, and mostly do, have around here.

The White Cliffs of Plymouth on Thanksgiving Morning
(As Seen From Our Beach)

Traditionally, Christina & Co. spend the Thanksgiving weekend with Lou's mother in central Jersey. This year was no different. Traditionally, TSO and I have Thanksgivinged with my cousin Al and his wife Kathy and their family and friends, or we've had a friend or two over to our former little house on the lake for dinner and a walk. So, what was Thanksgiving alone on a beach like for us? Well, we couldn't tell you because that didn't happen. Instead, we spent Thanksgiving at the Plimoth Patuxet Museums in Plymouth, Massachusetts. You know, that place where the Pilgrims enjoyed the first European Thanksgiving in this country. 

The Museums have been hosting Thanksgiving dinner since 1989. They have buffets and sit-down meals throughout the day. It's not cheap, and it sells out early. We bought our tickets back in July. In addition to dinner, the price also includes a two-day pass to the Museums, as well as the Mayflower II and other off-site artifacts. Plymouth Rock itself is free. By the way, it's more like Plymouth Stone. We visited the Rock many years ago and were shocked to see how small it is -- allegedly due to folks chipping away at it over the years. It's now protected.

Plymouth Rock
(Where's The Rock?)

Here's the Rock!

Our visit yesterday was limited to the grounds of the Museums. I dare say that the main reason people visit is to see the Pilgrim village, which has all the quaintness and charm that one would expect given our tendency to romanticize the past. 

Plimoth Village

There are actors/guides dressed in period clothing and speaking in period accents, some of whom lead period activities, and all of whom are ready, willing, and able to answer questions.

Paying Tribute to King James

Our Thanksgiving dinner was delightful. We were seated at a table for ten, but three people didn't show up, which allowed us to spread out a bit. Our fellow diners were from Florida, New Hampshire, and Washington, D.C. (originally, Michigan). 

We were given a card with The Story of Thanksgiving one one side and our dinner menu on the other.

Our meal was surprisingly good. I suppose that, having offered these dinners since 1989, in addition to hosting wedding receptions and other events throughout the year, Plimoth Patuxet has gotten the vibe and the food just right.

Pilgrim Entertaining Dinner Guests

After dinner had concluded, one of the Pilgrim men gave a lovely toast about gratitude. It was very moving, but I don't remember the words.

Toasting Pilgrim

Plimoth Patuxet has been embroiled in some controversy since the summer. The local Wampanoag have objected to what they perceive to be the Museums' prioritization of the Plimoth aspect over the Patuxet. I have to say that I agree with the Wampanoag. The Pilgrim Village is like a 17th century "Oz." It's well maintained, and the guides are authentic. Historic Patuxet was a disappointment. There were no period guides. We were told that they were home, observing a day of mourning. I get that, but, from what I've read, guides from local nations don't seem to be there as a rule. Instead, we were greeted by some very informative non-natives, who were sitting down slouched on parts of the structures. In fairness, however, I am certain that, had they been dressed in Wampanoag style clothing, there would have been strong objections to that as well.

The guides explained that we were in a representation of one family's summer living area, which comprised a cooking area and a dwelling. There also was a canoe being built. I can't remember the other structure, but it looked like a lean to. The summer dwelling had no cover on it, and there was no furniture inside. I found this disturbing because it does not depict the fullness of the dwelling. One of the guides told us that the furniture is removed, and the covering is taken down once summer is over because that is what was done. Well, I get that, but this is a summer site that people visit year round. Why can't they just leave things as is year round so visitors can see what the summer living quarters look like no matter the time of year? I'm sure the local Wampanoag are not objecting to the set up for no reason. 

As for the story of what happened that first Thanksgiving, the evidence of what actually happened, according to a guide, is found only one page of a writing by Edward Winslow called Mourt's Relation. Winslow wrote:

"our harvest being gotten in, our governour sent foure men on fowling, that so we might after a speciall manner rejoyce together, after we had gathered the fruits of our labours ; they foure in one day killed as much fowle, as with a little helpe beside, served the Company almost a weeke, at which time amongst other Recreations, we exercised our Armes, many of the Indians coming amongst us, and amongst the rest their greatest king Massasoyt, with some ninetie men, whom for three dayes we entertained and feasted, and they went out and killed five Deere, which they brought to the Plantation and bestowed on our Governour, and upon the Captaine and others. And although it be not always so plentifull, as it was at this time with us, yet by the goodness of God, we are so farre from want, that we often wish you partakers of our plentie." 

That's it. Among other things, people debate whether only the Great King Massasoit was invited and simply brought along all the other "Indians." They challenge the notion that this was the first Thanksgiving, as the local native people regularly had days of thanksgiving. The list is not insignificant. To me, however, what happened before and after this documented event is secondary to the meaning of the day itself in the here and now. The fact is that at least one Native American, Tisquantum (a/k/a Squanto), had assisted the Pilgrims in cultivating the land and that, when the harvest came, the Pilgrims and the Wampanoag, who had formed an alliance, gathered and enjoyed a three-day feast as to which both contributed food. What is wrong with that? What is wrong with spending one day a year remembering nothing more than the goodwill and gratitude celebrated 400 years ago? Do we reject the celebration of Jesus's birth because of the Crusades, Jim Jones, etc? Should Ramadan fall because of 9-11? Indeed, like Christmas, does anyone really even celebrate Thanksgiving for what it represents anymore? Hasn't it become more of an excuse for stuffing our faces and watching parades and football games? Very sad.

Sure, it's not always all that it's cracked up to be. We should give thanks every day, not once a year. Look at what goes on in our own families. There is drama. There are alliances. There are resentments. Despite this, many put their differences aside and manage to spend a day together giving thanks. And, yes, a good number of people don't. A good number of people spend it alone or under a bridge. But, does this mean we should throw the baby out with the bath water? We can always do better, but, just because we fail, that doesn't mean we should give up, beat our breasts, and wallow in our failures. Let's start with trying to do better. Maybe that can be added to the Thanksgiving tradition. 

This little rant is not directed at the Wampanoag or any indigenous peoples. Their grievances are real. They have been taken advantage of in terrible ways, by the earliest of European settlers, throughout the development of the United States, to the horrors of the American Indian boarding schools of recent history, to the tokenism of today. Indeed, even my justification of the Thanksgiving holiday itself may render me complicit in the continuing marginalization and disregard of our Indigenous Americans. For that, I apologize for my ignorant optimism.

Last summer, I visited the National Museum of the American Indian in Washington, DC. I was captivated by a beautiful sculpture by Edward Hlavka called "Allies in War, Partners in Peace." It features three persons from the American Revolution: George Washington, Oneida Chief Shenendoah, and Polly Cooper. Polly led a group of Shenendoah 400 miles from New York state to Valley Forge where they, once again, dare I say, "saved our asses" during another horrible winter. The sculpture is moving, and the story -- which few people know -- is as well.

Allies in War, Partners in Peace

We owe a debt of gratitude to our Native American brothers and sisters that can never be expressed adequately. We have sinned against them in ways that can never be undone. Is there anything we can do to atone? Can we at least have the conversation?

Christmas on the Cape (A Preview)

Because our residence here at the beach house is temporary, we left a lot of things in, not one, but two storage units in New Jersey. Among those items was all of our Christmas decorations. I don't know what I was thinking.

A few weeks ago, we realized that the first weekend of Advent was approaching, which is when we decorate for Christmas, but we had nothing with which to decorate. Soooooooo, we went to one of The Christmas Tree Shops in the Metropolis of Hyannis to buy some inexpensive decorations, which turned out to be not so inexpensive.

Our grandson, Michael, spent last weekend with us, and we thought it would be fun to start decorating a little early so that he would have something fun to do. That turned out to be a bit of a bust. Here's a preview of our very Cape Coddy Christmas, which is about as far as we got.

Christmas With a View

From Summer to Winter

In my previous post, I discussed how warm it was on Saturday. The temperature was 73 degrees. TSO and I waded up to our ankles in the bay. Even a shark was happily swimming about in what could have passed for summer sunshine. 

Yesterday, the temperature was in the 50s. It did little to brighten up what turned out to be a very windy, rainy day, however. I suppose it was a transitional storm because today was nothing like Saturday, except for the severe clear blue sky.

We woke up this morning to an outside temperature in the 30s. It never got above 45. As I write this -- at 8:17 pm -- the temperature is 36 degrees. The overnight low is forecasted to be 29 degrees. 

So, just like that, we transitioned from summer to winter, with only an ugly autumn day in between. This winter weather pattern is expected to last through the week. 

The severe clear sky carried through to this evening. The nighttime sky is amazing here. With our bare eyes, we can see the Milky Way, Mars, Jupiter, and other celestial bodies, such as the Pleiades (a/k/a Seven Sisters). Last week, TSO bought a fancy telescope. As we stood outside tonight while he set it up, a shooting star of some length fell from the sky. It was beautiful. Time will tell whether our wishes will be granted. We had an up-close look at Mars and the Seven Sisters within the Pleiades. It was too cold to stay out much longer, so that's all we did.

The Pleiades to the Naked Eye
(Picture From the Internet)

 

The Pleiades Through the Telescope
(Picture from the Internet)

Cape Cod continues to surprise us with its natural beauty, and the little surprises we encounter on an almost daily basis. We are blessed.

SHARK! SHARK!

It's just about mid-November, and today was a beautiful day! After a rain-and-wind storm overnight, the clouds broke just after noon today. They were replaced by severe clear, calm seas, and a temperature of 73 degrees. On November 12th.  

At about 1:30, Jim took off on a long loop of a walk. We agreed to meet in front of the beach house. If there were any doubt that it's November, the long shadow of our house already forming on the beach was a stark reminder that the sun now sets around 4:30 p.m. In early October, we would sit on the beach as late as 5:30 and still have sun rays bouncing off our faces. 

Anyway, given the current position of the sun (or is it the earth?), when I went outside to set up my detrital (is this the adjective form of the word detritus?) beach chair, which had blown a few doors down on the beach overnight, I had to place it quite intentionally in between our house and the house next door so as to be directly in the path of the sun's rays, which were glorious. Even my ever present Fatty Wampus had positioned himself at the water's edge where the shadows had not yet fallen.

Fatty Wampus Sunning Himself

The sun's rays warmed my face, as I nestled my toes into the sand. All was well in my world, as well as the Wamp's. 

Does This Sand Make My Toes Look Fat?

After a while, I decided to go to the water's edge. After all, if it was warm enough for Fatty Wampus, it must be warm enough for me. AND IT WAS!! On November 12, 2022, I waded up to my ankles in Cape Cod Bay without so much as the smallest "oh, that's cold" flinch when I stuck my toes in. That clear, calm water felt almost August warm!

Clear, Calm November Water

It wasn't long before I saw TSO ambling toward me. When we met, I talked him into wading in the water with me. 

TSO's November Toes

Alas, James did not share my opinion regarding the comfort level of the water temperature, but he didn't shout "it's freezing," and run right out either. We stayed a while and then sat for awhile on the beach watching the shadows engulf more and more of the beach, slowly but with stubborn certitude. We then moved to the deck of the beach house where, a short while later, I took a picture of the shadows, which now engulfed my detrital beach chair.

2:13 P.M.

Detrital Beach Chair in Shadow

As we sat on the deck, we admired the water, which remained shadow free, the peaks of its tiny ripples glinting in the sunlight. We watched a pair of cormorants, who seemed to have settled in on a spot directly in front of our house. Undoubtedly, there were some good eats below the surface. Suddenly, TSO said in his typically matter-of-fact tone of excitement, "I think I see a seal." I replied, in my "oh, please" tone, "it's a cormorant." Unconvinced, he went inside the house to get his binoculars. When TSO emerged and looked through the binoculars, he uttered in the same tone as before, "I think it's a shark." Then he said, "It is a shark," and handed me the binoculars while he went back inside to get a camera.

I held the binoculars and watched that familiar Jaws-shaped triangle bob above and dip below the surface in close proximity to the cormorants. "Hurry," I yelled into the house. TSO replied, "I can't find my camera. I hid it when the kids were here, and now I can't remember where."

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME!" was all I could say while the fin kept circling. Was he going to eat the birds, I thought. After all, they were the only visible creatures in the area. Ew. I wasn't ready for that bloodbath directly in front of the house. And then, just as I lost sight of the fin, out came TSO with his camera.

So, dear reader, you are going to have to believe me when I say that we saw a shark today in Cape Cod Bay, directly in front of our house, about 100 feet from the water's edge. As the Tee shirt saying goes, "Kathryn and Jim saw a shark today, but all I got was this lousy picture of some birds."

Really, There Was A Shark!

Here is a picture from the internet showing what we saw.

Today There Was No Boat -- Bigger or Otherwise

We really did see it. Really, we did!

Oh, and there are sharks in Cape Cod Bay this time of year:

https://www.theday.com/columns/20221027/no-offseason-for-sharks-on-cape-cod/

https://www.bostonherald.com/2022/10/09/shark-alerts-still-popping-up-along-cape-cod-just-be-aware-that-the-sharks-are-still-here/

  

Dazed and Confused

In the first post after we moved into our beach house on the Cape, I asked whether I could stand an Autumn here, given that the remnants of Hurricane Ian were whipping up the seas and hurling chairs across our deck. The first five days of October were, in a word, awful. But, then the weather grew exponentially better, and we wound up having a beautiful month.

Here we are now -- the first weekend in November, and Cape Cod is the gift that keeps on giving. Yesterday was about 72 degrees and sunny. Today was 75 and sunny. Is it really November in New England? How can this be? Lots of folks high-tailed it out of here at the end of October and headed south for warmer weather. One such person, I think, is Bathrobe Man. He lives in what looks like a garden shed with a lovely front yard. In fact, his shed/house is so small, he would spend all day outside in that lovely front yard wearing nothing but a fluffy white robe. He entertained his yardbird friends in his robe, read the paper in his robe, and sat with his lady in his robe. Sometimes I wondered whether he had clothes. Anyway, the weekend before Halloween, I noticed that some of Bathrobe Man's garden accoutrements were wrapped in blue tarp, and his shed appeared to be closed tighter than a drum. He should have hung around a bit longer. Tomorrow is supposed to be glorious as well.

We had four of our six grandchildren over for the weekend. They spent a lot of time on the beach collecting more rocks.

TSO and the Four Grands With
Fatty Wampus Swimming Off To The Left -- Alone

At one point, Mary wanted to return to the house. Big boy that he is, her older brother, Thomas, escorted her back. 

Awesome Big Brother!

After leaving his little sister with their Granny, Tom returned to the shore line where he joined his older sisters in some toe dipping. 

Refreshing
The Wamp Is Still Floating Alone Out There

So, we had a great weekend enjoying not just Summer in Autumn but Summer in November!

We returned Inland tonight. I then realized I had to run to Target for something. I got in my car and turned on the radio. I'm not quite sure what the various radio stations are around here yet, so I started searching. The first station I landed on was playing The Christmas Song by Nat King Cole. You know -- chestnuts roasting on an open fire and all that. My first thought was "Noooooooooooooooooooo!" It's freakin' November 6th. There's still Halloween candy lying around the house. It's 75 degrees out. Stop! The song was almost over and was soon followed by Frosty the Snowman. OMG! That song was still going strong when I rolled into the Target parking lot. I did my shopping, got back in my car, and guess what? A different version of Frosty the Snowman was playing! Holy moly! It's early November, and this station is unable to come up with something other than two Frostys within 20 minutes. Good grief.

Now, I like Christmas music, by and large. I grew up on it. At Christmastime, mind you. But this schlock (is that a bad word?) is too much to bear/bare sometimes. Although it's early, and I'm railing against prematurely-playing Christmas songs, I have to take this opportunity to recommend one of my very favorite "holiday" albums, if you will. It's called "If On A Winter's Night," and it's Sting.

The album contains some Christmas songs (nothing like Frosty though), but it is mostly a reflection on the season of Winter. For a real treat, watch Sting's concert "Live from Durham Cathedral" where he played these songs. It's amazing. 

I better be careful here. I may be putting myself in the Christmas Spirit before Thanksgiving gets here.

Fatty Wampus, The Bruce, And Some Tomfoolery

Autumn in a beach house on the Cape is certainly different from Autumn in a lakeside retreat in the Land o' Lakes. Take the wildlife, for example. So far, we've seen a few varieties of birds around our house. Of course, there are the wretched seagulls. We've also seen ducks floating around, cormorants diving for seafood, and scoter birds, which I had never heard of and am not sure what they do.

The blasted seagull requires no introduction. A cormorant swims about and then ducks his head under water for, it seems, up to a minute a time, searching for food. A double crested cormorant looks like this:

Double-Crested Cormorant (Credit to Mel)

The surf scoters just showed up a week or so ago. They don't do much of anything, except swim around like the ducks. They are very cute, however. They remind me of puffins. A scoter looks like this:

Surf Scoter (Credit to Save Buzzards Bay)

And then there are the seagulls. I do not have a favorable opinion of them. Their aggressive acts of piracy are matched equally by their aggressive unwillingness to share the spoils of their criminal acts with their fellow avian bandits. I witnessed this firsthand when Christina was 3 years old.

In 1990, a few weeks after my mother had died from metastatic breast cancer, a/k/a MBC (😠), my brother and I took Christina to Maine for a week. We stayed in a small cottage just across the narrows from Mount Desert Island. On one of our 7 sad-but-happy days, we packed our lunch and drove to Acadia National Park for a picnic at the Summit of Cadillac Mountain. We perched on a large granite boulder where, with juice boxes and foil-wrapped sandwiches in hand, we presided over a glorious view of the Atlantic Ocean. I unwrapped Christina's half of peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which she gleefully removed from the foil. As she held the sandwich in her hand and prepared to take her first bite, from seemingly out of nowhere a seagull dive-bombed her and snatched it out of her little hand.  

The seagull's victory was a hollow one, as a few of his fellow avian scavengers prevented him from flying off into the sunset to enjoy his little feast dans la solitude. A mid-air scuffle ensued. I'm not sure how it all turned out because my little girl was crying over the theft of her sandwich, which had been rudely taken from her by a stupid bird without so much as a please or a thank you. As I held my devastated daughter, desperately trying to come up with just the right words to convey the perfect expression of empathy, my pragmatic brother took action. He handed Christina a Chips Ahoy cookie and said, "here, you can eat this for lunch." This put an immediate end to her deep emotional pain and a big smile on her face, thereby transforming the seagull story from tragedy to comedy.   

Like the seagulls in Maine, the seagulls in Sandwich also are lacking in charm and social graces. From what I can tell, they are very "Mean Girlish." A few weeks ago, a squabble of seagulls had gathered along the shoreline here in front of our beach house. One seagull was separate from the group, however. At first, I thought that perhaps, he was simply enjoying the sunshine while the others did their thing.

Squabble of Seagulls Along The Shoreline, Minus One

Then, the squabble flew off, but the lone seagull stayed behind. After some time, he stood up, and I noticed that he seemed obese. OMG! Were the other seagulls shunning him because he is fat? Poor bird. Eventually, he went on his way, and I forgot about him. The next day, Jim and I were on the beach, and there he was -- alone again, with the other bozos along the water's edge. I don't know why, but I just blurted out, in a sympathetic tone, "Poor Fatty Wampus." Yes, I've named an obese bird Fatty Wampus. That feels kind of mean on my part, but I don't intend it to be so. Indeed, Fatty Wampus is the only seagull I can abide.

"Curvy" Fatty Wampus,
Alone Again

In the Land o' Lakes, there were no seagulls. Instead, we had ducks. Cute little ducks. Mallards are the most obvious. These ducks basically minded their own business. They swam, dipped their heads under water to get their food, engaged in public mating rituals on the lake (always charming), and searched for places to nest in the woods between our yard and our neighbors'. Sometimes things got feisty between the males, but the raw aggression of the seagulls is foreign to them. Autumn brings the frenzied flight and sound of ducks taking flight and heading south. 

Ducks Enjoying Autumn on the Turtle Tree in our Lake

Here in Cape Cod, there's another form of wildlife that I have not had the -- shall we say "pleasure" -- of encountering, except in the form of a sign, located at the end of our street, warning everyone of its existence.

Speechless

Sharks. Seriously? Great Whites? Jaws? From 50 years ago? I remember when that movie came out, the idea of a killer shark terrorizing folks vacationing on the Cape was close to absurd. My mother assured me that, despite the movie, it was safe to swim in the Atlantic Ocean from New Jersey to Maine because, in reality, the water was "too cold" for sharks. I'm not sure that pronouncement was accurate. More likely, there were no Great Whites -- rogue or otherwise -- skulking about the Cape because there were no gray seals like the one depicted underneath the Great White warning in the picture above. Cute little thing. It turns out that, by the early 70s, the little critters were just about hunted to extinction. Well, as it also turned out, gray seals are shark food, and, thus, sharks all but disappeared, too. Things began to change after 1972 and the passage of the Marine Mammal Protection Act.

Today, there are nearly 500,000 gray seals living in the Northwest Atlantic Ocean. "Tens of thousands" make their home in the waters around Cape Cod. Naturally, now that the buffet is back in town, so are the customers. Voila! There's a shark problem around the Cape, and it's not just 1 rogue beast with the nickname Bruce. I'm glad I won't be swimming while we're here in the beach house.

In the Land o' Lakes, there are no sharks. The closest thing that comes to a killer beast in our waters was a snapping turtle, but they're fairly elusive. Instead, we swam with the minnows and sunfish in our lakes. They're friendly enough, as are the harmless turtles. We used to have a tree in our yard that leaned over the water. We called it the Turtle Tree because the turtles loved to sun bathe on it. (The ducks in the picture above were on the Turtle Tree.)

Red-Bellied Turtle on the Turtle Tree

The turtles on our Turtle Tree had no problem sharing space and getting along, as they often did.

Turtle Tree

At least one turtle was spotted doing what looked like yoga on the tree.

Tantric Turtle

And then there was the elusive Harvey the Heron. We didn't see him often, but, when we did, it was always a treat.

Harvey the Heron

All these beautiful, non-man-eating creatures were literally in our back yard in the Land 'o Lakes. We also had gentle visitors in our front yard. In late summer and early autumn, the deer meander about searching for sufficient calories to store up for winter. 

A Prospective Buyer?

These pretty creatures, with their Lyme Disease tick-riddled bodies, are practically domesticated. They don't even flinch when people and dogs walk past them. 

This House Is Mine, Buddy!

Sure, the bay is beautiful, but, some days, I can't help but feel that we're in the Truman Show, and someone's going to punch a hole in the horizon. It's as though the producers lack so little imagination that all they could come up with is a few species of birds to make life seem normal around here. But, that's just my New Jersey lake life bias chiming in. 

Oh, wait. There is one other species of bird around here. They are not on the beach, however. These guys hang by the cemetery at the end of the road that takes us to Route 6A. November is the perfect time to introduce these clowns, and clowns they are. They have no respect for the dead.

No Respect

The Land o' Lakes and Cape Cod are equally beautiful, albeit in different respects. Sure, the variety of wildlife on the lake makes things interesting, but, when winter comes, they all disappear. Here, when winter comes, we'll still have the bay outside our windows and -- I'm sure -- those blasted seagulls, but I don't think someone will punch a hole in the horizon, and we'll have a beautiful starry sky to observe at nights. Best of all, we'll have Christina and her family a little more than an hour away instead of 5-1/2 hours.

Life is good, and I am grateful for it.