Amateurs Have Way More Fun!

I feel like a forever amateur in many areas: blogging, gardening, surfing, writing...however I kinda like it that way. There is something about the excitement of always having something to learn, and the anticipation of the unexpected. When one is a novice, there are fewer expectations, and so more often than not, I am thoroughly pleased and excited about the outcomes.

Lets take surfing for example. Michael signed me up for a surfing competition/fundraiser a few weeks ago. My initial reaction was panic, followed by a reluctant smile and brave face. I couldn't wear the cool t-shirt if I didn't participate. He assured me it was casual and fun.  I wasn't convinced. I have never surfed with many people at once, competing for a wave. I could only imagine the surfing videos I've seen and I couldn't imagine myself in it. The day came, and the forecast was in my favor...no waves! Instead we would paddle out to a buoy and back...that I could do confidently. Many heats were before mine, and as the winds picked up, so did my chances of having to catch a wave..uugghh, except that I was starting to get into the enthusiasm of the event. I also had to be a positive role model for Meg...she was watching and envisioning herself on that board next year. I would have gladly given her my spot, but she wasn't ready yet. The atmosphere was casual and fun as Michael promised. The vintage boards were cool to see, we were sitting amongst the awesome dunes of Cahoon Hollow, and the water was warm.

It was time for my heat, and it was certain that I would now have a chance to catch a wave alongside fifteen other women. My nerves now calmed by the sea and man I love, I ran into the water carrying the twelve foot vintage board, and paddled...this was fun. Around the buoy, and ahead of the others, I was feeling confident...now I just had to catch a wave...and catch one I did...yay! Then I landed on my rump of which the Cape Cod Times caught a perfect picture of and put it on the front page of the next day's paper. I wish I was the cool girl with the panoramic picture heading the paper, but, well, that's for the experts.

The garden is another area which gives me great amateur pleasure. My Carrot Friends poem says "A carrot is hard to grow/" All summer we have been watching and waiting for ours to grow. Last summer we grew them with minimal success...most of them looked like full-figured minature doll legs. This year we had higher hopes. We had pulled a few finger-width and length-sized ones, but they weren't quite ready. Today, we dug with our fingers around the circumference of our largest carrot to date...it .was a real-sized carrot, almost two inches in diameter. We were ecstatic.  "Should we? Pull it?" Yes, it couldn't possibly get much bigger. We gathered all its ferny stems for a firm hold, gave it a little apprehensive yank to loosen the soil, and pulled. Out it came, with a swift release, because it only had one inch to reveal. It was actually shorter in height than it was in diameter. It was a stubby stump of a carrot with two straggly roots. We had been duped..The wider a carrot yields no greater a carrot. Our theory to wait until a carrot grows round to an impressive size before picking it fell literally, and figuratively short.

 Our grape arbor last year provided me material for another poem, told in prose form, about our encounter with Black Rot. This year, we have been watching dutifully, hoping not to make the same mistakes. Two of the four vines have grown to reach the two Owen-lengths height with healthy leaves stretching across the driftwood ,but no jade marbles or any sign of grapes appeared. However, on the two lesser-achieved vines, merely a foot and a half tall with dry, curled leaves, we found the smallest cluster of purple shaded berries, one on each vine.  There was barely enough fruit to feed a babe, less than twenty itty-bitty purple pearls perched on stems, but still fruit, and oh, how sweet on the tongue they were. One was Pinot Noir, and the other Merlot.  What a delight to have no expectations, and to be seduced by a mere sip.

Have no expectations, and you shall find treasure. Have a great day! Bess

Clamming at Nauset Inlet

A knick of a rubbery tip,

the stretched neck six inches deep,

the burrowed body praying for rain.

I carve at the grain, careful

not to crack my existence. Must keep

the shell safe in my grip...

I have loved clamming since my first introduction. There is something about the vista of sand, water and grass, the scraping sound in quest of the gritty sea, and the stillness, particularly the stillness that mesmerizes me. It is a meditation. I find infinite holes. When we had several high school students stay with us as part of an educational experience, one remarked, upon seeing all the holes, that "there should be no such thing as world hunger." As I focus on the careful excavation, crouched aside the grasses, and find the burrowed treasure, my heart expands. I am one with the sea. My hands are tattooed with the brindled grain. I cradle the shell, careful not to crack it.  Cracking it means it would not make it home with us, and could lessen its chance of survival remaining in the sand. That would be a waste. I have some mixed feelings with regard to the humanity of digging for clams;are they any less than us, and why do we have a right to eat them? I'm sure the fishermen and hunters have asked themselves the same question. It is the vegetarian spirit of my college days speaking. Yet, I have come to believe we feed from each other in the cycle of life and if we eat thoughtfully, respectfully, and mindfully. it is a healthy and balanced way. I always say a prayer of thanks.

We call the inlet our garden of the sea. We harvest from the inlet as we do our vegetables and flowers from our gardens around the house.. We discovered sea beans this year during one of our walks back from clamming. We had just recently heard of sea beans visiting our French chef friend Phillipe. He was chopping them up in his restaurant PB Boulangerie's kitchen. Shortly after, we spotted them along the edges of the inlet. They are an excellent source of minerals and a nice garnish to any meal. In the late summer, the sea lavender shows its blooms amongst the beans.We add them to our half-bucket haul of clams, just enough.

We dine only with what we have gathered with our hands on these evenings: clams, kale, tomatoes ,summer squash, and sea beans. Sea lavender and zinnias color the table. We are perfectly full.

Wedding Day Wildflowers Everyday

On the day before our wedding, Michael and I picked bunches of wildflowers from a local meadow.  We decorated our home with  Black-eyed-Susans, Daisies, Goldenrod, Queen Ann's Lace, and Coreopsis  for family and friends that came to celebrate with us.

The days before and the day of our wedding were deliriously colorful.  Michael and I painted our shed with wildflowers and words and my best, dearest college friend Carlene was snapping pictures of our everyday love, swimming and running and wildflower picking.  The morning of our wedding ( I could not sleep a wink at the inn), I drove back to our home to wake Michael before sunset and we watched it rise in all its pink orange beauty to welcome our day.  We then went for one of our blessed early morning swims in Skaket. A few friends and family, other lovers of swimming, joined us.

Here it is necessary to include that we saved a shark.  Coming out of the water, our friend Ethan noticed a black dorsal fin moving across the water.  He is not a big fan of open water swimming, so this was particularly unsettling for him.  Mind you, this was not a big fin, but it was a fin nonetheless swimming  in circles, disoriented.  With closer inspection, it was about three feet long, blackish on its back, grayish on its belly, with a pointed nose and large eyes. It was not a common sand shark or dog shark that we could tell but maybe a baby Mako shark.  Whatever type of shark it was, it needed to get to larger open waters of the ocean side, so Michael walked alongside it guiding it in the direction of the open sea. It finally seemed to find a course and went on its way.  It was an exciting story to add to the day.

After all the excitement, I had less than thirty minutes to get back to the inn, change, and return to the beach where friends and family would meet to witness our love and commitment to one another.  I kept the salt in my hair, pulled it back, slipped on my glove-fitting Nicole Miller dress, took the simple handful of Russian Sage that Michael had put in the room, and made it just in time to see him dressed in his handsome linen rolled-up pants and shirt that hung as naturally as our love. People close to us were there and our friend and judge Steve married us among the sea, the sand, and grasses, under a cloudless, cerulean sky.  It was perfect for us in every way.

We married on the morning of our first collaborative art and poetry exhibit opening at Cape Cod Art Museum, so the day continued to be a joyous and memorable one.  We hosted a reception and got to share the collaboration of not only our love, but our art and poetry too.

We created a wildflower garden that represents those wonderful memories and more.  When we first sowed the seeds in March, we thought none had taken because we watched robins and finches snack on them.  So we planted more.  Still we thought none had taken as what looked like a field of weeds were staring at us.  Unsure of what green leaves were what, we picked only the certain weeds we knew.  Now we do understand that "weeds are wildflowers looking for a home", and I admit I felt guilty picking any weeds, but the monster ones that looked like something from Little Shop of Horrors, well they had to go.

Almost three months later, we have a delightful, airy array of wildflowers in every color that bring joy each time we come home.  Every day we see a new poppy pop.  We have pink, yellow, and orange poppies, and larger red ones too. There are Coreopsis, and several varieties of Daisies in yellows and whites like Tidy Tips and  the African Daisy.  There are Crimson Clover, Bull Thistle, Baby Snapdragons, and Baby Blue Eyes with Sweet Alyssum sprinkled about and so many more I do not know the names of.  I adore our wildflowers.  They hug us with happiness. We talk to them, sing to them, and encourage their place in the world.

Oscar Wilde writes "With freedom, books, flowers, and the moon, who could not be happy?"

I will add art, love, and the sea to the list.

Dear carrot friends, what's on your list of happy things?

Wishing you all things happy!

~Bess

Little Ducks

Michael and I have just survived ten days straight of teenagers, lots of them! First we had our niece Hannah from Houston, TX with two of her friends, all graduating high school seniors, spend five days with us as their graduation present.  We had fun taking them to our favorite Boston spots, the MFA, The Union Oyster House, and Mike's Pastry.  Of course, we took them to our training ground Walden Pond, where they chose to shop in the gift shop rather than join us for a swim...our New England waters are a bit too cold for them, They went strawberry picking, ate ice cream  which apparently is more of a New England thing than a Texas thing...its more about frozen yogurt there, and the remaining three days we spent on the Cape Cod seashore, from Orleans to Provincetown, touring lighthouses, and beaches, teaching them to surf, and of course, more shopping...it was a treat for them to buy t-shirts from all the different areas, especially the Cape Cod black bear shirt ( highlighting the first ever known black bear to be seen on the Cape).

We dropped them off at the airport on Sunday, and on Monday we were carting ten students back to our home in Orleans, to host Art of the Sea Endersession educational/recreational/cultural week for Megan's high school.  We taught ten more eager teenagers to follow Emerson: "Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, and drink the wild air". We surfed, we ran, we clammed, we swam, we biked, we saw a fantastic play called The Hound of the Baskervilles complete with backstage tour and meeting of the performers, we talked of art and poetry by local Cape Cod artists and poets such as Charles Hawthorne, Hans Hoffman, Mary Oliver, and Stanley Kunitz, and did sun salutations at sunrise.

In these ten days, we listened and observed this upcoming generation, and were impressed at the intelligence and grace in which they are handling the growing pains and decisions facing teenagers. In light of the uncertain economy, social stressors, and shaping identities, all of the teens we "hung out" with demonstrated thoughtful and optimistic plans for their future. It is refreshing to see the hope and dreams in their eyes.

At one of our sunset reflections with the ten students we observed them from a distance.  Michael sketched them and I wrote.  Some of my thoughts for a poem:

Ten in a row, like ducks
without their mother, wondering about the world,
sitting, feathers tucked, quiet.
Three waddle to the water, stray
from the row beyond wonder and warmth
to feel the cold spray.
Four find the rocky edge hard
against their soft, white feathers.
Two more lost in the grasses
try to find their way.
And one remains, still
sitting, feathers tucked,
content with the setting sun.


They will find their way, their center, their carrot friends.

xo Bess

2012 Phlebotomy Schools

Cloud Flats

There are sand flats that we are graced to witness frequently at our beloved Skaket Beach in Orleans.  I love to observe the flats, especially while gliding over them with each stroke taken in the celestial salt waters. Skaket Beach has especially pristine flats, easily seen in the creamy water days when the sea lulls the sleepy shores. They spread for miles when tides are low and one day we were able to convince our friend Steve, a talented local potter, to meet us in the early morning hours to make an impression of them with plaster of paris.  To our delight, he showed up, and with wheelbarrow, two-by-fours, and plaster in tow, we found picturesque flats to frame and mold.  We shaped clay into the impressions and made a unique Skaket Beach sand flat bowl for us to cherish and to hold.  Michael and I were married on Skaket Beach in 2010 and it continues to nourish us everyday, if not with salt, in spirit.

Today, while swimming on one of these creamy water days, I noticed the clouds above mirroring the reflection of the flats.  I will call them cloud flats. They shared the same rippled movement, the same contours of our spine spooning. Their whites woven with blue, like waves lapping the shore. Michael painted such a scene, once, spontaneously by memory, with the same blues and whites and lapping lines. It stayed here in our studio, forgotten, leaning against the corner wall.  Today, I saw this painting in the sky...cloud flats...and now it hangs in our newly renovated bathroom with an aqua wall that was waiting for this painting.

Nature reflects its beauty in the hearts of sky, land, water, and us!  Our spine and sinew, which holds our posture strong and flexible, is figure-lined in the dunes, and sand flats, waves and clouds.  A reminder of the continuum we exist with.  A welcomed knowing of the threads that weave our soul.

Carrot friends, embrace the figure lines of nature, of our soul!

xo Bess