My office last weekend. High atop High Head looking out towards Truro and PTown way in the distance.
the cape is gleaming tidy white and cedar shake cottages lined up in a row, as beachgoers enjoy time off from the hustle and bustle of their Boston or Manhatten lifestyles. seagulls crying out loudly to one another, as they glide in picking minnows out for brunch, while hiway 6 starts to crowd with people eager to get to Provincetown, the energy so thick you can feel it at the city limits. turn of the century cottages enveloped in distinctive light from being surrounded by water on three sides, and dunes on the outskirts of town stories high, looking out onto a serene and yet hauntingly dangerous atlantic ocean. boats grounded in the burnt sienna sand waiting for high tide water to rescue them, while kids jump off train trestle tracks into the refreshing water, washing off the previous school year all with one dive. gleaming harbors surrounded by working boats sustaining their captains and crews families sitting happily beside craft meant for nothing but pleasure and speed, keeping the minds of their owners off work and demands of frenetic lifestyles. their windpowered brethren skitter across the water pushed by balmy hot breezes while the sun sets lighting up the surface of the water with millions of refractive diamonds. it sinks slowly into the water extinguishing the blazing orange heat turning the sky lavender in the far reaches of the sky, and the brightest stars make their appearance as if coming onto a stage. the cool purples close in on the orange hues, chasing them into the water and the whole sky cools off, but not the air. sounds of clinks of glasses at the nearby restuarant mix with the laughs of happy people thinking how blessed they are to be in such a fairytale place, content in the knowledge that it will all be there again tomorrow.