Rolling country hills

It would constitute flagrant disregard to fail to mention what a magnificent day it was today. Even better it was one of those days when seemingly nothing can go wrong. Every particle of my activity today from the moment I awoke has been coddled by a fresh north wind, blazing yellow sunshine and a beautiful azure sky with fluffy white clouds. What was also remarkable was that I got out of bed before eight o’clock.  My  sleep routine is not what I’d call a success. Probably because I haven’t a routine. Almost each day in the late afternoon I have one – and often two – cups of strong espresso coffee. Both the diuretic and caffeine components of the roasted beans perform their expected function. Initially I dismiss the collateral damage of this cavalier behaviour on the theory that there are no limitations – the fallacious point of view that habits and procedure no longer count. When however I get the régime right as apparently I did last night, it works very famously – especially on a glorious day such as this!

We are notably approaching the annual Labour Day Weekend. The late summer holiday first represented a milestone in my life when I started my regular treks to Provincetown, Cape Cod, Massachusetts in about 1978. My first view of Provincetown was the mountainous projection of sand dunes seen from a distance as one drives into the town adjacent Shore Road bordering East Harbour. The visit to Race Point Lighthouse, Herring Cove Beach and Long Point Light Station would have to await a more personalized investigation by foot. Shank Painter Road, Badford Street, Commercial Street and Masonic Place (aka Atlantic Avenue), the Lobster Pot and Land’s End Marine Supply have to this day exceptionally vibrant memories for me. Over the years the former 3-day long-weekend transformed to a week and then two or more, extending at times into the autumn town agenda of art and theatrical performances in which we occasionally participated with the semblance of locals.  And Patti Page singing Old Cape Cod was the inescapable picture of relaxation and gratification.

If you like the taste of lobster stew
Served by a window with an ocean view
(You’re sure) You’re sure to fall in love with old Cape Cod

Winding roads that seem to beckon you
Miles of green beneath the skies of blue
Church bells chimin’ on a Sunday morn’
Remind you of the town where you were born