Last week we took some long walks around Provincetown getting a little lost on some of the small side streets that branch off of the main thoroughfares. We chanced upon an early cemetery on a small hill that was overgrown with vines and flowering plants. All different shapes and sizes of tombstones dotted the grounds, some slightly askew and others really crooked. Most of the tombstones were etched with beautiful calligraphy and inscriptions while others had amazing illustrations of skulls and wings.
Our favorite visual treats were the beautiful old and weathered homes we discovered. It was great to chance upon a structure that looked like it had witnessed and survived some brutal winter storms and intense summer heat waves - the peeling shingles, the mossy patina, the bleached wood. Some of these homes were tiny and almost toy-like while others were grand and ornate. It was fun to imagine the interiors of these houses, to think of who might have lived there in years past: an artist, a sailor, a writer. We pictured faded floral wall paper, dusty stacks of leather bound books, coffee cans filled with artists brushes, crusty tubes of oil paint and worn velvet upholstery with dark burnished woods. We wondered what treasures we would discover under the battered roofs of these seaside homes. What stories these places would tell.