A conversation on another planet about the earth a thousand years hence. “Do you remember that white tree?” –Anton Chekhov, “Note-Books,” 1892-1904
Cape May is at the southernmost tip of New Jersey, separated from the mainland by a narrow channel. In 1878 a fire destroyed 40 acres of homes. So, the buildings were rebuilt in the Victorian style contributing to the charm of the town and attracting many tourists. In 1976 Cape May was declared a National Historic Landmark City.
Menhaden fishing boat rigging.
Anchor for sale.
Let’s get together.
The Virginian hotel.
And one cat….
Menhaden fishing boats.
–Samantha Mozart
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For some reason the images no longer show here, but when you click on the question mark, it links to my books on Amazon.
The air of the room chilled his shoulders. He stretched himself cautiously along under the sheets and lay down beside his wife. One by one they were all becoming shades. Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age. He thought of how she who lay beside him had locked in her heart for so many years that image of her lover's eyes when he had told her that he did not wish to live.
Generous tears filled Gabriel's eyes. He had never felt like that himself towards any woman, but he knew that such a feeling must be love. The tears gathered more thickly in his eyes and in the partial darkness he imagined he saw the form of a young man standing under a dripping tree. Other forms were near. His soul had approached that region where dwell the vast hosts of the dead. He was conscious of, but could not apprehend, their wayward and flickering existence. His own identity was fading out into a grey impalpable world: the solid world itself, which these dead had one time reared and lived in, was dissolving and dwindling.
A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight. The time had come for him to set out on his journey westward. Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling on every part of the dark central plain, on the treeless hills, falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, farther westward, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling, too, upon every part of the lonely churchyard on the hill where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses and headstones, on the spears of the little gate, on the barren thorns. His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.--James Joyce "The Dead" From Dubliners 1914
We’ll do it all
Everything
On our own
We don’t need
Anything
Or anyone
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
I don’t quite know
How to say
How I feel
Those three words
Are said too much
They’re not enough
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Forget what we’re told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that’s bursting into life
Let’s waste time
Chasing cars
Around our heads
I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Forget what we’re told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that’s bursting into life
All that I am
All that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes, they’re all I can see
I don’t know where
Confused about how as well
Just know that these things will never change for us at all
If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Songwriters: Nathan Connolly / Gary Lightbody / Jonathan Quinn / Tom Simpson / Paul Wilson
Chasing Cars lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
“I don’t know,” I answered. “I can but imagine.”
Dusk embraced us now, at the window here in the blog cupola. The Blue Deer lifted its head, sniffed the air, and then walked off into the woods. I pulled the window shut, picked up my purple and white iris the Phantom had picked for me and we headed down the winding staircase, I behind the Phantom. In case I stumbled I hoped he would catch me. If I went first I feared he would push me. I didn’t want to flatten my iris.
When we reached the foot of the stairs, I thanked him again. We parted there. I lifted the iris to my nose. The stem had a nutmeggy smell, like his hand.
“What is your name?” I called after him.
“Moriarty,” he called back.
S.M.
S.M.
I spent seven years in the 1990s binge-cashiering at a farm stand on a 30-acre farm in Naples, Florida. While strings of cashiers came and went, during the intervals I often worked nine days straight. I loved my job and the customers. Some became enduring friends and plenty produced sundry stories for my amusement. I wrote down the stories and saved them. Now, as thoughts poke through of gardens and rows of strawberries, corn, tomatoes, lettuces, herbs, peppers, eggplant, squashes and melons, I offer you samples of my stories and expert citrus advice. For your binge-reading pleasure, I am gathering these stories into a book called FUNNY FARM STORIES. You can find some of these stories up above, in the menu headings under the header photo, across the top of this page. Don’t know an orange from a melon? Check out WHAT SHOULD I DO WITH THIS GREEN THING…? I hope their flavors delight you. –Carolina Gringo, as told to Samantha Mozart.
Founder, Publisher & Editor
Carol Child
Storyteller
Samantha Mozart
Consultant
T.J. Banks
The Phantom of the Blog
Moriarty
Click or tap the image to travel to my Journalism Portfolio, Carol Child Communications.
Gatsby
In my capacity as publisher of Scheherazade Chronicles Classics I have formatted for ebook and published for sale on Amazon F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby. This is the link.
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The story of a journey as seen through the eyes of a child, this novella won Chekhov the Pushkin Prize.
Copyright 2011-2023. All rights reserved.
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Cape May looks really lovely. So charming and with such a distinctive style. I would love to visit someday.
It is lovely, Karen. A charming place to visit.
Thanks for coming by and visiting my blog. 🙂
Samantha
Awesome pictures and what a GLORIOUS area!! I so love the beauty and the history of your area. Thank you for sharing. I truly think you should send these to travel magazines.
Well, I could send these photos to travel magazines, but the photos are old, not digital and, besides, the magazine would pay very little. I have actually tried selling my photos through a third party, a photo agency. It doesn’t pay. I’d rather retain the rights and write current stories with current photos for travel magazines or newspaper features. And, then, all five people who still read print could enjoy my travel photojournalism. I do make photo note cards that I sell in packs of 12 for $25.00: my Mustard Lane Note Cards. But, these days most people simply email.
I agree, Gwynn — Glorious. I think that’s what the Victorians were thinking when they designed their architecture — Glorious! I can hear Emerson, Thoreau and Muir now. 🙂
Samantha,
if you were to go to Poole or to Brighton or to York, you would believe you are in Cape May. I am amazed at how much British Culture still influences some parts of the United States. Thank you for sharing these beautiful pictures.
Visiting from the A to Z Blog Challenge.
Shalom,
Patricia @ EverythingMustChange
Interesting, Patti. Thanks for giving me that picture of England. I would like to visit there. The older I get the more I realize what a relatively short time ago it was that the early settlers arrived here from England; and by the Victorian period, the harnessing of steam power enabled people to travel all over the world rather quickly and comfortably, so they could sail to England, say, and see this new style of gingerbread architecture with long windows and high ceilings and fancy colors and say, “I will build one of those for myself when I get home.” You probably know all this. There are people I’ve met here in Delaware who tell me stories of their English and Dutch ancestors who lived here in the 1600s. The British beat the Dutch in various dustups, and that British culture remains strong, from Georgia to Maine.
What I found really interesting when we moved to California was meeting Mexican Americans whose families had lived there since California was part of Mexico. What classy people they are. And, fortunately for us, they opened a lot of Mexican restaurants. 🙂
Shalom,
Samantha
The images are so beautiful. It makes me want to visit it sometime.
Thank you for sharing and have a great last week of the challenge. 🙂
[@samantha_rjsdr] from
Whimsical Compass
Thank you, Ramya. Maybe you will visit Cape May sometime. It’s quite a lovely, relaxing place.
Thanks for coming by. And, I hope you enjoy this final week of the A-Z Challenge.
Those are the prettiest pictures I ever did see Samantha thank you! Those Victorians knew a thing or three about charm.
They did, Susan. The Victorians were smart in a lot of ways — constructed their buildings intelligently and with a spiritual aspect, with lots of light and reaching upwards to the heavens. It’s a shame we have foregone much that the Victorians have given us.
Stunning photos and a fascinating place. Thank you for showing us around.
Yes, it’s a photogenic town and a pleasant place to visit or vacation, Gulara. Thanks for coming by. Nice to meet you on the A-Zs.