You taught me what I know about Cape Cod. Always the wild plum blossomed in the hedge soon after we arrived and turned the key, the one we had left hidden by our well. The shadbush and crab apple had begun to flower as we watched the sailboats drift across Nantucket Sound. You showed me where the conch had spawned its chain of embryos and left it by the rocks, and how to pick the horseshoe crabs up by the tail when they got stranded on the beach. We threw them back into the sea. The fiddlers waddled by anxious to hide. The quahogs you raked in made marvelous chowder later in the day. We shared adventure when out in the bay our outboard motor failed to rev. We laughed and pulled on heavy oars against the tide.
Fall always came too fast but brought the ripe grapes for jellymaking and preserves.
Sharp now the salt air through my window flows on other shores. But I do not forget.