The story behind "Chatham Charlie" aka "Washashore" Part 1

Charlie was 8 months old when I took the photo of him in the washed up blue dory. Last year

the photo was featured on the "Welcome to Chatham" page of the Chamber's guidebook. To have it picked as the cover shot is truly a thrill and an honor!

So many people have asked about the story behind the photo that I decided to share it on my blog. When you live here year round people ask "What do you do here off season?" The short answer is " I walk on the beach and take lots of photos. " On a chilly day in late April we walked was out to see the new cut with my friend Ann Brown. On the way back we decided to walk the inside of South Beach and that is when we saw the washed up blue dory. It was Ann's idea to put Charlie in the boat. He was good at sit, stay and look good even at 8 months. I took a few shots with my point and shoot Canon Power Shot and the rest is history.

I thought it would be fun to call it "Washashore" as I am a summer girl, aka "Washashore" My grandparents, Dick and Jean Tyner bought a house here in the 1920's and I have never missed a summer. The distinction between " a local " and "a washashore" is very clear and some people take it quite seriously. Even though Charlie was raised here he was born in Upton, MA at LazeDaze Kennels. Therefore he is and always will be a " Washashore " He's cool with it.

Writing as Prayer

"Although we seldom talk about it in these terms, writing is a means of prayer.
It connects us to the invisible world. It gives us a gate for the other world to talk to us
whether we call it the subconscious, the superconscious, the imagination, or the Muse.
Writing gives us a place to welcome more than rationale. It opens the door to inspiration.
Writing is a spiritual housekeeper. Writing sets things straight, giving us a sense of our
true priorities. "

March 10
From The Artist Way Every Day
by Julia Cameron

Magic Happens

Above all, watch with
glittering eyes the whole world around
you because the greatest secrets are always
hidden in the most unlikely places.
Those who don't believe in magic
will never find it.

Roald Dahl

Cape Cod's second blizzard

The Cork Sorter

The house, which doubled as a gallery, was well worn. Canvas's and bottles filled the large window
overlooking Main street on the east end of town. The art work had an old school Provincetown feeling and when I walked through the front door I felt like I was traveling through time. The hall lead into a living room filled with canvas's of all sizes. The house was dark and musty in an oddly inviting way and I heard my husband say " Do you think they are open? " A woman's voice responded "We're a little dusty, if you don't mind dust, we're open."

Settled comfortably at an oversized roll top desk behind the front door sat a small, round woman with twinkly eyes and gray hair. She had a box of corks in her lap from all the local restaurants. On the floor,
up against the wall and under the window were hundreds of corks in boxes of all sizes. Next to her tattered old swivel chair sat a tiny wooden table with a large zip lock bag of more corks. She explained the why of all the corks. "I am the sorter of the corks." she said contentedly. "I go through all these corks, separate the good ones and we sell them to buy trees. When you go to the library you will see three new trees, they are cork trees!"

This happy little woman had me at "corks."The more I talked to her the more enchanted I became. Her husband, who sat snoozing in the back room, was the painter. In the kitchen a big tropical bird sat on a perch in it's cage. She told me it was her "best friend." Seventeen years ago they agreed to take care of it for three weeks. The owner never returned. The bird is a great talker and confidante.

She invited us to wander through the house. Alongside her husband sat two dogs and three cats. On the kitchen table there was marmalade, jam, toast and an ancient teapot. She told us they had moved to Provincetown 50 years ago. "A lot has changed since then. There were two teachers and two nurses."
I assumed she meant the other women she was friends with. She held up the baggie of corks and said "These are the corks I cannot part with, some are very rare, some are just too beautiful to part with and some have phone numbers on them to call. Of course I have to call them" she said with an enchanting twinkle in her eye.

" You're my best friend "

Obsession

Obsession, isn't that what life is? Obsession with love, children, art, writing, teaching, photography and now puppies. Obsession with anything that stirs the soul to it's depths. It could be chasing light, walking the beach, mixing colors, writing, gardening; these are the personal obsessions at the top of my list. Now I am relishing in the first week of " Rosie " our new addition. 10 weeks old and a bundle of love;  full of confidence and happiness. She is trying to fit into the very established pack. 14 year old matriarch, Jamie and 2 year old, Charlie. It's a tough nut to crack with Charlie, whose nose is a bit out of joint but she's doing it. We keep telling Charlie, " She'll be your pal and then he will be obsessed with her.