….and so I arrived at the B&B, was welcomed and shown a pleasant bedroom by the owner couple. I then, armed with a map, ventured out to explore. The wooded terrain was what I expected….until the strip mall. I supposed it was efficient to cluster stores all together rather than have them spread out here and there, but I might as well have been in a nameless suburb for all that. No doubt I suffered from the outsider’s romantic vision of a Cape Cod of crashing waves and an intimate village, which I did eventually encounter.
First, though, I found my way to the Kennedy compound at Hyannisport. That done, I strolled along the town street, and for lunch had lobster. Lobster lobster lobster was my diet for the next three days. Next, I took the ferry to Nantucket; either there or Martha’s Vineyard, but Nantucket’s whaling history drew me. The waters leading there looked very eastern, unfamiliar, rough. I walked up and down Nantucket’s cobbled streets, had lunch, walked some more, and wondered what the hell I was doing there. It started to rain heavily. For the sound of a friendly voice, I called my neighbors in California and could have wept to hear them say my name. On the return trip, the passengers called out excitedly on sighting sea lions on rocks. I stayed in my seat.
Bulletin about Bijou: His coat is full and shiny now and he is climbing trees. In an effort to keep him around longer than I managed with Mojo, I am imposing curfew at 6 p.m. and meow as he might, he stays indoors until morning. (That’s his yellow yarn ball he is wrestling with)