Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Provincetown Cape Cod

To arrive in Provincetown, Massachusetts you might sail, fly, or walk as Henry David Thoreau did back in the 1850's... but if you drive you cross over Cap Cod Canal and head towards the tip or 'finger' of what many call 'the right arm of Massachusetts'. You drive around the bent elbow for the last miles and soon begin to see a sweep of white dunes. The tiny town is nestled around Cape Cod Bay and is truly magical in its way. Once a Portuguese fishing village... now and for many years, a renowned artist colony which thrives between the calm bay, expanse of large dunes and the wide and wild Atlantic. Notable painters and writers such as Susan Glaspell, Eugene O'Neill, Charles Webster Hawthorne and Norman Mailer to name but a few, became part time and full time residents lured by the landscape and unique light of Provincetown. These and others were pioneers in founding what later became a famous theatre group and art school. It is enchanting walking along the bay at sunset with the moonrise, as the lights go on along MacMillan Wharf and inside the homes and galleries of the townspeople. The 252 foot Pilgrim Monument stretches up towards the large dome of sky offering great views of the town, as well as the surrounding ocean and harbor. Long Point Lighthouse's shining beacon and white tower seem like a miniature, after eyeing the monument, though tiny in comparison, it sits proudly glowing upon the very tip of Cape Cod. It is interesting to see all the old wooden pillars that are standing up against the rising tides and the various other mediums residents use to keep the bay back. While standing amid this charm and beauty... I make a wish that it always will... and returning home... continue to write and call my President and representatives in Congress, to encourage the passing of a true clean energy bill. Jupiter and the moon grow brighter, as a silver molten path shimmers and grows across the water beneath the near full waxing mirror to our sun. I find joy in the boats swaying back and forth, creating rope to mast music, which accompany the bay sounds slurping to the shore, as I head towards the center, where galleries and a friend await me.
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