Primal

I can't help it. It is Primal. So deep in the fiber of my being. This spit of land jutting out into the sea is my soul. It is the only god I know.

I just spent three days here on Cape Cod, where I was born and raised. Most of my time this week was spent alone, in glorious fall weather, clear, cool and fresh.

I know it bothers some people who are close to me when I call this "Home", because I've actually lived in the Philadelphia area longer than I lived (full-time) in Chatham. But this is the water and the sand and the sky of my youth, my learning, and I'm going to take this new-fangled blogging opportunity to display a pictorial collage of my home, my gut, my self.


This is what one might expect of a mother who is trying to encourage the love of this place to her kids.


And it working, I dare say.

But this is the beauty that sends me reeling, touches someplace so simple, yet so profound.The Green, green ivy in the clear, clear sun.The Hydrangeas, draining their color into the last stroke of the autumn fall.
The Last Fall teeny tiny Rose The walkway my mother laid 40 years ago. What a cool-shaped leaf.

And then, of course, there is the Lake.
The water of my youth. There is probably more of that lake water flowing through my veins than anything else.

Today I found some surprise raspberries. I love raspberries, finding them on the vine. The feel of one coming cleanly off it little nipple. The look of them in a bowl. I planted these raspberry vines about 7 years ago for my dad. He really loved raspberries. He had no idea how to take care of them, and for years they produced a slight handful at best. This weenie 1/4 pint of raspberries I found made me do crazy things, like take portraits of them in unlikely places.Surprise!This way to the berries
straight and roundthey go together, somehow.

Perhaps I will never be able to explain it. Maybe that is my Lesson in Life. What touches me and inspires me about my home turf is my story, one that belongs to me only, and the more I let it feed me and make me smile on the inside, and the less I try to explain it away or teach it or promote it, the Better.

A few parting shots.

Summer leftover


It was a good one.

October fishing. Why not?



This is not a cat. It is a Cat Stump.
In honor of all the crazy and lovely cats who roamed this sandy little corner of Indian Hill Road. May you walk with the natives now.

Go out and really look at the nature of your homeland. We will all be much closer then.