Herring Cove Beach

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Herring Cove Beach ~ 10.11.15 ~ Provincetown, Massachusetts

One morning in Provincetown we drove out to Herring Cove Beach, where we used to spend days at the beach when the kids were small. The waves here on the bay side are more gentle than they are on the beaches facing the open Atlantic. When they got older they preferred the excitement of Race Point Beach. This beach is pretty rocky, lots of small stones, making trips in and out of the water rough on tiny feet.

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Herring Cove Beach ~ 10.11.15 ~ Provincetown, Massachusetts

For whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
it’s always ourselves we find in the sea
~ E. E. Cummings
(The Lyric Self in Zen & E. E. Cummings)

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Herring Cove Beach ~ 10.11.15 ~ Provincetown, Massachusetts

It was fun photographing the gulls sunning themselves in a different background than the large rocks they usually perch on at our local beach. The future is always uncertain, but lately possible scenarios seem to be monopolizing my thoughts, creating anxiety even as I try to stay living in the present. Spending so much time on the Cape has helped me restore a sense of peace with things as they are or will prove to be. It’s not so much a feeling of resignation, but more of an accepting of the inevitable flux and flow of life.

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Herring Cove Beach ~ 10.11.15 ~ Provincetown, Massachusetts

When anxious, uneasy and bad thoughts come, I go to the sea, and the sea drowns them out with its great wide sounds, cleanses me with its noise and imposes a rhythm upon everything in me that is bewildered and confused.
~ Rainer Maria Rilke
(Letter to Clara Rilke, March 27, 1903)

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Herring Cove Beach ~ 10.11.15 ~ Provincetown, Massachusetts

supermoon eclipse

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supermoon ~ 9.27.15 ~ Avery Point

Nate & Shea are visiting us and last night the clouds held off so we could share viewing the supermoon eclipse combo with them. Lucky for us because apparently this won’t happen again until 2033. We went down to Avery Point to see the moonrise at 6:27 pm but somehow missed it behind a building. After walking around the campus a bit we finally found it, too late to catch a picture of it on the horizon. But it was still impressively large, and as most of us know, the camera does not capture the moon illusion that our eyes see.

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supermoon ~ 9.27.15 ~ Avery Point
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9.27.15 ~ Avery Point
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supermoon ~ 9.27.15 ~ Avery Point

After we watched the moonrise we returned to our house and watched the lunar eclipse from the balcony, which began a couple of hours later.

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start of lunar eclipse ~ 9.27.15 ~ Groton, Connecticut
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total lunar eclipse ~ 9.27.15 ~ Groton, Connecticut

We were exhausted from a long day. In the afternoon we had taken a lighthouse ferry cruise on Long Island Sound. Nate and I stayed up until the middle of the total lunar eclipse (10:47 pm according to one website) and then turned in. The clouds came in overnight so we could not see the moon setting this morning. But we were grateful we stayed awake long enough to see half of this rare event.

photos by Tim, Barbara and Nate Rodgers

an apple drops

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“The Apple Harvest” by Carl Larsson

Life can be so long, now and then
lasting all of months on end
broken by tall grass,
deep-flowing rivers
and kisses
that last no longer than an apple takes
to drop
in that fleeting second between summer and fall.
~ Terje Johanssen
(The Magic of Fjords)

scattering abroad

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corn maze ~ 9.15.13
Buttonwood Farm, Griswold, Connecticut

For man, autumn is a time of harvest, of gathering together. For nature, it is a time of sowing, of scattering abroad.
~ Edwin Way Teale
(Autumn Across America)

A light wind swept over the corn, and all nature laughed in the sunshine.
~ Anne Brontë
(The Tenant of Wildfell Hall)

a long fine life

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9.7.15 ~ Eastern Point Beach

Of course no evening at the beach would be complete without a visit from our old friend with the mangled leg and foot. The gull may just be greeting us in a friendly manner, but his call is so mournful and long we often wonder what tale of woe he is trying to share. The burdened gull looks in a lot better shape now than he did at the beginning of the summer.

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9.7.15 ~ Eastern Point Beach

I’ve learned not to feel too sorry for this gull. He doesn’t seem to feel sorry for himself. His large strong wings work perfectly well and we see him flying and fishing out over the rocks and the water. And every summer he’s an expert at swooping down and snatching hot dogs from unsuspecting diners at the picnic tables. I once saw him swallow a foot-long hot dog, whole, in one big gulp! Human food is not good for gulls and most people, including us, obey the rules not to feed them. At least not on purpose. 🙂

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9.7.15 ~ Eastern Point Beach

We learned that we are not this old gull’s only friends. While a group of three off-duty lifeguards were walking along, chatting and gathering up their equipment for the last time this summer, he flew over and landed on a picnic table right in front of them and squawked at them. They all said hello and spoke to him and then finally one said, as the gull flew off, “Good-bye, Claws! Please don’t die!”

So Tim & I are not the only ones who wonder at the end of each summer if this wounded gull will make it through the coming winter. Since I first met this gull in 2011, he must be at least four years old, probably more. Gulls live ten to fifteen years so it is possible he may be around for many summers to come.

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9.7.15 ~ Eastern Point Beach

Jonathan Seagull discovered that boredom and fear and anger are the reasons that a gull’s life is so short, and with these gone from his thought, he lived a long fine life indeed.
~ Richard Bach
(Jonathan Livingston Seagull)

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9.7.15 ~ Eastern Point Beach

photos by Tim Rodgers

unofficial end of summer

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9.7.15 ~ Eastern Point Beach

Today we went down to the beach for our last hot dogs of the season. I haven’t been taking many pictures this summer – too busy with ailments, illnesses and surgeries and determined to post pictures of our Norway trip before starting on other picture projects. But we’ve been down at the beach as often as possible in the evenings and have enjoyed the gulls and their antics.

I don’t remember what year the tiny laughing gulls started appearing at our beach but there is a large flock of them now. This year they came away from the parking lot, which was an unsatisfactory background for photos, and spent more time on the grass and on the rocks by the water. So I brought the camera today and finally got some good pictures of a couple of them standing on the rocks. I’m pretty sure these are “first summer” non-breeding adults.

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9.7.15 ~ Eastern Point Beach

Feeling wistful, yearning for something intangible. It’s still too hot and unbearably humid. Record-breaking temperatures are forecast for the next few days – a heat wave in September. Ugh. Already school districts without air conditioning in classrooms are announcing early dismissals for tomorrow, like they did several times last week. Autumn cannot come soon enough. It will come, though – it always does.

first snow

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“November” by Theodor Kittelsen

I am younger each year at the first snow. When I see it, suddenly, in the air, all little and white and moving; then I am in love again and very young and I believe everything.
~ Anne Sexton
(Letter to W. D. Snodgrass, November 28, 1958)

numinous mystery

"October" by Efim Volkov (1844-1920) Russian Realism Painter
“October” by Efim Volkov

How lovely trees are. The human species grew up in and around them. We have a natural affinity for trees. … We human beings don’t look very much like a tree. We certainly view the world differently than a tree does. But down deep, at the molecular heart of life we’re essentially identical to trees.
~ Carl Sagan
(Cosmos)

When a man plants a tree, he plants himself. Every root is an anchor, over which he rests with grateful interest, and becomes sufficiently calm to feel the joy of living.
~ John Muir
(Steep Trails)

A tree is a self: it is unseen shaping more than it is leaves or bark, roots or cellulose or fruit. … We can not point to anything physical and say, “There is the self!” This holds for the tree’s activity as well as for the human’s. What it means is that we must address trees. We must address all things, confronting them in the awareness that we are in the presence of numinous mystery. Who shapes the tree? Who shapes my thoughts? We are in the mystery of the self.
~ Brian Swimme
(The Universe Is a Green Dragon: A Cosmic Creation Story)