Snowing in Yarmouth

When I drive down to the Cape to visit ancestors long dead, there is a moment in time, right when I reach the heights of the Sagamore Bridge, where I cast a glance over the side to catch a glimpse of the Cape Cod Canal where it turns out into the Atlantic. When I cross the bridge I do feel different, as if I’ve been transported to a place where troubles on the other side of the bridge no longer plague me. Today I drove to the Cape, something I had been aching to do all autumn and all of the winter so far.

I had to drive down to the South Shore anyway, to open a free business checking account at the only place in the state that offers such a thing. And, I wanted to drive through the new underground portion of Route 93 South that just opened underneath the city of Boston. So, I decided to make a day of it and make a quick visit to the graves in Harwich and Yarmouth. Stef was feeling sick, so she stayed behind.

I brought the digital camera and got some decent shots of the view from a bridge right near the border of Harwich and Dennis. The shot above is one of them.

I can’t quite put my finger on why traveling to the Cape sooths me, but it does. Even when the snow began to fly as I exited from a convenience store in Yarmouth, even then I wasn’t panicked I would get stuck or anything. I was at peace.

My cold was acting up all day though, so the driving was rough. I listened to my new Sheryl Crow disc on the way down and various other things plus sports radio on the way back. Local commentators are getting way too cocky when talking about the Patriots. I’m just glad they’re not the ones on the field.

I’ll leave you with this second picture. This one is from Christmas, just after dinner. I have this whole thing in mind, which I saw Rebekah do at, where I’ll put up a whole bunch of pictures of me at various weights to show a comparison. Since the weight loss was my sort-of Christmas present to myself, I thought I’d get that up before the New Year. We’ll see.