Marching on

March in New England can be a cold proposition. 2011 has been no exception. On the tailend of a particularly horrific winter, I find myself in the doldrums of being tired of those wool sweaters I unpacked with reckless abandon on September 1st (even though it was still 80 degrees.) Like a junky needing a fix...any sign of sunlight gives me the urge to wear a t-shirt outside regardless of temperature to soak up some much needed Vitamin D. I miss the ladybugs who plagued my house right up until Halloween.


This sets the scene of last weekend. Off to Plymouth to celebrate a family birthday with an overnight to an old inn overlooking the beach. No snow on the ground and the smell of salt in the air.

• Did my kids need sunscreen?-no


• Could we go in the water?-no


• Was it as cold as any other day this Winter? yes

But there is something about the Atlantic when you are a New Englander

Is it the way you feel when you wake up to see frolicking seals getting their breakfast?

Or the sound of the Herring Gulls mocking my nephews as they chase them down the beach?

Could it be watching your kids play with their cousins on a jetty daring the waves to splash them?

...and then watching them get splashed

I think so.....the salt in our blood comes from the Atlantic. No matter how cold the water is, its calming force washes over our souls with warmth and comfort.

For some it's the North Shore, for some it's the South Shore. It could be The Harbor or The Bay. Before The Bridge or after The Bridge. Upper Cape or Lower Cape. For some its the view from a small island somewhere between.... It's always there.

"We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea, whether it is to sail or to watch - we are going back from whence we came."
~John F Kennedy

Coming Home Again-Back from the Beach

My first thought today was to tell my tale of the beautiful week I spent at Cape Cod or the pit in my stomach I felt when I realized it was Friday and I needed to start the chore of packing my bags and cleaning the cottage.

But I decided it would be nice to talk about coming home again.

I know, I have only been away a week and I am a huge proponent of travel (although I haven't traveled extensively).

It started to happen as we crossed the Sagamore Bridge and we said goodbye to Cape Cod.

For the first time in a long time, I longed to be in my house.

I saw my first sign for route 495 and the pangs of leaving the lovely Cape started to go away. Although I had at least 8 loads of laundry, 75 emails to go through, dead geraniums and an angry cat to contend with, I was looking forward to my little house on the lane.

This was re-enforced today, when my little family went to our little church, fanned ourselves with the programs and ate watermelon with the minister at coffee hour. Then we went for a walk to a local farm up the street where a wedding was held just yesterday and the tulle markers were still up on the apple trees. Cal bought a pint of fresh blueberries and I bought a strawberry rhubarb pie. An old farmer tipped his hat at us on the way out as we walked home with our treasure. As I tried to revive some of my annuals, I can hear my older daughter Cat sharing pre-teen secrets with my neighbor's daughter, their painted toenails shining beneath July tanned legs.

As my Cape T-Shirt says "Life is Good"

Carpe Diem!!!!

Enjoy Summer wherever you are!!

There is no place like home!!!