Anticipation! That was the feeling that took over when my parents mentioned “The Cape” to me as a child growing up outside of Boston in the 1930s. At the age of nine, in 1933, I wasn’t much involved with the planning and packing that went into my family’s preparation for a vacation beyond making sure that my bathing suit was in the suitcase. After our first trip to Waquoit, I was hooked. When I thought of sun, sand, and salt water, I visualized the Cape.
After years of renting in Waquoit, my Dad bought a piece of land on Little River on which he built a small cottage. From then on, most summer Fridays found us headed for the Cape (no highways then) and making good time until we hit the Canal. Sound familiar? In those early years, the Bourne Bridge was a drawbridge that had to be raised every time a large ship or one with a tall mast came through. Traffic would be backed up for miles and we would impatiently wait for the bridge to lower so we could pass. Read more…
He and a few friends will cycle hard for six or seven hours. They’ll cross the Bourne Bridge, traverse the Service Road, follow back roads to the Cape Cod Rail Trail in Dennis, and pass Cahoon Hollow Beach in Wellfleet.
From there, the group will take the back roads in Truro and finally get into Provincetown, feeling like kings of the road as they breeze down Commercial Street. There, they will stop for lunch—and a quick change of clothes—at the Crown & Anchor.
“That’s a great day,” Leach says of this trip he makes every August, usually on a Friday because the bike paths are less crowded. “The whole thing is great. It’s so different throughout. … Probably the most memorable part is the end of the bike path all the way to Provincetown. The scenery and the whole idea of being out on the Outer Cape and then heading into Provincetown and being on Commercial Street is fun.” Read more…
Don’t miss this years fireworks! Check the dates below to find parades and fireworks shows in your area! From everyone here at Cape Cod Life Publications, cheers for a happy and safe 4th of July weekend!
One of the best things about living on Cape Cod is the diversity of its art world. There are artists of many kinds on the Cape and Islands, and the depth of their talents make it hard to choose who to profile in our arts edition. Some of the people profiled on these pages were suggested to me by friends, co-workers, and other artists. I have met some of them personally at cultural events. I wish that we had endless pages to present more of their work—it is always hard to pick photos reflecting an artist’s talent.
Of course my own personal taste in art influenced the selection of the artists profiled in this edition, as did that of our Contributing Editor Mary Grauerholz, and our Art Director Patty Dysart. We poured over the images sent to us and sometimes disagreed with each other’s choices, but for the most part the paintings, sculpture, fine jewelry, and handiwork on these pages represents a wonderful array of talent encompassing as many styles and mediums as there are creatures in our ocean.
If you are like me, you will look at this issue and long for a Paul Schulenburg or a John Clayton to hang on your wall. Patty Dysart loved the work of Francie Randolph, but after reading Francie’s story, Patty felt that the paintings the Truro artist submitted did not accurately reflect her talents. Patty took the time to contact the artist for more examples of her work. The end result is a profile where the images and the text, written by our talented contributing editor and wordsmith, Mary Grauerholz, come together beautifully.
When it came to choosing the cover for this issue, I asked Patty to design six or seven potential covers to be displayed in Cape Cod Life’s lunch room and asked the staff members (including our Publisher Brian Shortsleeve, who always jokes that he gets at least TWO votes for a cover) for their opinions. We went through several viewings before we chose Jack Goldsmith’s iconic Cape Cod painting of three little girls playing on a bright Cape Cod beach. Something about this painting spoke to everyone.
Whatever your taste, I hope you will be dazzled by this array of art that spans all styles, mediums, and price points, yet is uniquely of Cape Cod, Martha’s Vineyard, and Nantucket. This issue is its own diverse work of art—just like this ever-surprising coastal world we all love.
With artful best wishes,
Winter blankets take many shapes. There’s the warmth of our Pendleton wool, thrown over our legs and tucked under our feet, working just as hard as the woodstove to keep the heat in while we sleep. There’s the snow outside that comes and goes—covering the strawberry patch and the raspberry cane roots from December to March. There’s the extra fur the dog grows over his rump and between his paw pads, keeping him moving over ice and snow.
And over the garden, there’s a thin, sturdy layer of plastic—nothing expensive, nothing fancy—but enough to cover the crops so that in even the coldest months, they grow.
Not everyone, of course, can stand the chill. The basil and eggplants die off long before late October, when we cover the rows. The tomatoes get pulled out not long after while the green beans say their parting words, and the kitchen herbs move inside to sunny doorways and windowsills.
But the greens—the cabbage and kale and lettuce and spinach and Swiss chard and arugula—these thrive under their thin cover all winter long. We harvest the late summer plantings from Thanksgiving through March, and a new crop goes in toward the end of February. It’s hard to believe that under such a thin plastic blanket the seedlings still sprout. But they do, skyward and reaching, sure that spring is coming soon.
By early May, the beds are full again, a sea of bushy green rows.
I always over-plant—the promise of seed packets in February is too much to resist—and by mid-May, we have a full-blown greens crisis on our hands. Salads are mandatory at dinner and lunch, and on weekend mornings I sneak sautéed spinach and Swiss chard onto our plates alongside hot toast and fried eggs.
But my favorite way to eat the greens, hands down, is cooked with onions and garlic, layered with filo dough and cheese, and served as an entrée: spanakopita.
If you’ve never had spanakopita, it’s a Greek delight. It’s a savory spinach pie, or really more of a pastry, filled with eggs and ricotta and feta and greens. In the Greek countryside, rural women bulk up their spinach with leeks and Swiss chard, and in the cities fancy restaurants add kalamata olives or pine nuts.
I never do much to dress it up—with greens straight out of the garden, there’s no need for that. I just head outside in the late afternoon, down the deck stairs with colander and garden shears in hand, and start snipping my way through the spinach beds. When the colander’s full I make my way back in, and turn on the oven while I start chopping garlic and onions, chard, and spinach. By the time the sun goes down, the house fills up with the scent of pastry and herbs, rich cheese and greens, and something like spring wafts out of the oven.
It’s the sign of warmer weather I look forward to the most.
- Posted in Arts & Culture
Thirty years after entering his first acting class, Harwich native Nat McIntyre makes a living performing on stage and screen in New York City. Mostly working Off-Broadway, McIntyre has gone from memorizing lines from his first-ever part in Life with Father to gearing up for performing in Othello this summer in all five New York City boroughs. Looking back, McIntyre realizes something: in discovering Harwich Junior Theatre, he discovered his passion. “The theatre put me on the straight and narrow, if you can put a six-year-old on the straight and narrow,” he says, laughing. “It was so good for me.”
Each season since it was first founded 60 years ago by the late Betty Bobp, Harwich Junior Theatre has delighted audiences of all ages with dozens of plays and musicals. More than 20,000 folks attended performances last year. Just as important, the mix of actors has helped form a creative and nurturing institution on Division Street.
“It is my true belief that when people of all ages create theatre together, the energy and creative potential is boundless,” says Producing Artistic Director Nina Schuessler, who landed her first Harwich Junior Theatre role nearly 35 years ago. “It is truly intergenerational here.”
The post-performance scene outside the small clapboard theatre is also an energetic, friendly gathering of arts lovers of all ages. Festive teenage jesters who greet the crowd at performances and happy crowds gather around the farmer’s porch. Children, prodded by parents and gripping pens in their tiny fists, turn their faces up to the costumed actors. The actors sign their names and write upbeat messages onto every playbill passed into their hands, bantering with the patrons and accepting their good wishes. Read more…
- Posted in Arts & Culture
Poems have been written about them. Artists are stirred by them. Photographs of them adorn walls around the world. “My son saw a photo of one of the cottages when he was in Greece on the island of Mykonos,” says Marie Jones of Enfield, Connecticut, who has journeyed to Truro’s Beach Point every summer since she was a baby, some 74 years ago.
Days’ Cottages turn 80 this summer. They have survived coastal storms and historical Nor’easters, including the Blizzard of ‘78 that washed away the seawall but left the cottages undamaged. Their appeal is ageless and their customers are seemingly forever faithful, many returning every summer, renting the same cottage, and settling in next to the same tourists. Through the decades, strangers have become friends, sometimes almost family.
“It’s been passed down from generation to generation,” says Joe Days, who now operates the business started by his grandfather. “We put them in the same cottage every year, and they’re next to the same people. So it’s like an annual reunion.” Read more…
Through her art, Hella Bailin revealed some of the best and worst moments of her life. From the worst—her parents were killed in a concentration camp during the Holocaust—to joyful world travels, Bailin created her art as a way to embrace cultures, capture the essential goodness of people, and accept and express her extraordinary sorrow and loss. Read more…
For as long as I can remember, a faded painting of my great great grandfather’s ship, the Niantic, hung in the parlor of our West Tisbury home. It had hung in our island house for 150 years. Every once in a while, we’d dust it or wipe off spider droppings.