Monday, August 5, 2013

The Painter's Dance


As the youngest of four and the only girl summer vacations on the Cape offered an equal ground. Gone were the daily fights and battles among siblings. Instead, we would rise to the sound of mourning doves, skim alongside the Mill Pond looking for crabs, dig in the low tide flats for clams as the tide slid out through the narrows to sea. 

We would rarely speak a word. The white row boats surrounded by green sea grass knocked against each other, the gulls drifted overhead, the echo of chatters amongst a family across the water all surrounded us and became a brave new world to explore. I can still hear the lone bird's distant call - Bob White, Bob White.

Up in the small cottage our folks would be clattering pans and packing up for a long day at the beach as the cicadas marked the weather forecast - hot and sunny. We'd be called up and, like a family of mules, we'd each be given bundles to carry - towels, beach chairs, umbrellas, totes with books, sunscreen and the coveted bag of oreo cookies - and make the long trek down to Nauset Beach. 

This is summer on the Cape. As I worked at the above painting these feelings became unleashed and I simply danced. Oh what fun it is to be a painter! 
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