Dec 10, 201005:41 PM
Exploring the Beauty of Our Own Back Yard
Inside Out
Over the past five years I’ve become aware of a seasonally-driven lifestyle trend amongst my Cape friends, the majority of whom are in their late-30s and early 40s and are mostly married with children. And, as I’ve become more in tune to this pattern, which seemingly correlates to the time of year, I’ve gotten the impression that for the greater part of Cape Codders, Summer = An On-Going Beach Communal, and, alternatively, The Onset of Fall + The End of Daylight Savings Time = Time to Hole Up ‘til Late-Spring/Early-Summer.
I’ve also gathered that here, springtime is not so easily coaxed from dormancy, and can sometimes reluctantly emerge as late as early-June. And, summer herself, as glorious as she is, seems to last but a fleeting eight weeks.
My first fall and winter on Cape Cod, I was all-consumed with my pregnant state, and failed to heed this unique house-bound contra-social phenomenon that prevails come October. I think it must have been during my second winter living here, that I was finally struck by the relaxed, sleepy vibe around our village that some deem partially responsible for rendering its year-round dwellers uninspired to partake in goings-on al fresco.
I recall calling a girlfriend of mine one late-November eve that first fall to inquire of any noteworthy weekend outings, and thinking it odd when she replied, “Not too much happening…till June. Get ready to hunker down!” When I questioned my husband, who grew up in Barnstable, he echoed her sentiments with a smirk and a cool, “Yea, it’s normal not to see the likes of anyone much now until…well, summer. People hibernate here, like bears.”
I spent countless hours peering out my office window that winter, and remember surveying ephemeral glimpses of the sun – emblematic of summer days past – lifting what seemed to be an everlasting gunmetal-gray stain to the sky. I was struck by the optimism that a smattering of rays dancing atop the water in the bay could beget.
Shortly thereafter, I made a conscious effort to assuage my Winter Blues by spending as much time as possible outdoors. I took to bundling up and traversing the beaches straight through the winter months. What I discovered was remarkable: I fancy being by the ocean as much – if not slightly more so – during the off-season. I revel in the solitude and the raw majesty of a vast coastline occupied only by seagulls and one or two fishermen.
My children also thrive outdoors perennially, and now, when boredom appears to be setting in at home, we don our coats and hats and grab our buckets and shovels. The pursuit of treasures – the likes of collectable shells, sea-glass and pirates’ booty – not only quells our weariness for indoor doings, but also imparts profound and lasting memories upon us. And there is no question in my mind that recollections of such merit make braving those frosty days worthwhile.
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