Cape Cod Magic

We are back from a week at the Cape.  We rented a 3 bedroom house looking out over a pond in East Falmouth.  We started packing the van on Friday night with sheets, towels, food, utensils (including lobster crackers), drinks and beach items.  On Saturday, we got a late start; I had strapped the kayak to the roof rack, but after we got on the highway, the noise of the vibrating tie-downs was so annoying that I turned back and left the kayak in the yard.
Saturday is the "turnover" day for rentals at the Cape.  You can move-in at 2-3pm; the prior renters must leave at 10am, to give the hired cleaners a window of time to get the place ready for the next customer.  
This mass overlapping exodus and arrival makes for a horrendous travel day for anyone going to or leaving the cape.  Despite the improvements at both bridges that span the Canal, the traffic is often reduced to a crawl for 3-8 miles or more in either direction during the peak travel periods (9am - 3pm) on summer Saturdays.  
When you are sitting in these inevitable traffic jams, you ask yourself whether it is worth all the trouble.  For the record, I feel the same way about air travel.  But, then, finally you get over the bridge and are sailing down the highway.  The memory of the agony of 90 minutes of stop-and-go seems to be washed away by the breeze flowing in the window of the van.     

We had lots of company.  Both sets of daughters and family come for at least part of the week.  There are usually too many of us to go to a restaurant so we generally steam lobsters, grill steaks, sausages, hot dogs, hamburgers at home and eat on the patio.

One night, the grandparents did get away for a quiet cocktail and dinner at The Silver Lounge on Route 28A.  My parents used to go there 50 years ago, and the place has not changed much.  95% of the clientel appeared to be over 65.  We felt right at home.

At the rental house, after an evening meal, we would often move our chairs onto the lawn to get the best view of the pond, where we can watch the kids playing "king of the raft" or just marvel at the way wind and light and water can relax the soul.  We start planning the next meal, with cool drinks in hand, and wonder why this sense of peace and relaxation only happens on "vacation", and not in real life.  

One of my still-working friends once asked, "How you can call it vacation when you are retired?"  I guess the answer is venue.  When I am home in Wellesley sitting on my screen porch, my meditation is often interrupted by a passing freight train or a noisy lawnmower.  Often, looking at the garden, I notice the tangle of weeds or fading blooms that need to be pruned or drooping plants needing water.  Soon, I am out there, working.

But when I am at the Cape, there is no urgency to do anything beyond planning the next meal.   And the pond, well, that's just not my job.