The selections in this book have
appeared in different form in the
column Soundside of the Yarmouth
Register.
PRINTED AT THE REGISTER PRESS
YARMOUTH PORT
CAPE COD
DECEMBER 1954
_We had been driving along in the full glory of a September afternoon
on the Cape. It was a wonderful world of deep blues and green pines,
of gleaming white sands and of sunshine singing over everything. I had
been pointing out things, afraid she might miss them, or not see all
there was to see in them._
_She said, “I wish you could hear yourself as you sound to others.
When you talk about the Cape it is as if you owned it, all of it,--and
you treat everyone else here as your guest.” There was nothing to say
to that because I knew it was the truth. Still, I knew that there was a
better than even chance that, given a year, more or less, she would be
irritating some newcomer from the Mainland with her own possessiveness.
She said, “It is really a very nice place you know, especially on a day
like this. But you have been everywhere and everywhere leads you right
back here. You never leave the Cape except under protest, and you rush
back as if it might disappear in your absence. What is it between you
and the Cape?”_
_So I thought I would try, anyway, and I began_:
“_Cape Cod is a number of things, and it means a number of things to
me...._”
_First of all there is the land, the bounteous and the beautiful
land, and then there is the beautiful and bounteous sea that surrounds
it. And there is the special way in which the land and the sea respond
to nature and her varied seasons. There are a thousand colors and a
thousand variations of each; there are a thousand moods and you never
know which one to expect. You only know that the land and sea are there
and that there is no dullness in them._