Provincetown and points of view.

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I asked Logan what “Lagosta na Panela” meant after I saw the tiled sign outside of the Lobster Pot in Provincetown. “It means lobster in the pot”, he said over the phone and I laughed. Of course it does. 

Provincetown is a centuries old whaling town with a historic Portuguese presence that turned into an artist and gay colony. The town is saturated with gorgeous old architecture, vivacious townspeople, and a wealth of galleries, restaurants, and beachfront to visually and otherwise consume. You can walk down the “Widow’s Row” which is full of old ship captain’s homes, with windows so that the wives could watch for their husband’s ships to come in- or never come back. Colorful buildings, shingled Cape homes, and lots of old New England history abounds there. I forgot how much I love that weird little town, where drag queens make a living alongside literary celebrities, and where one day it can be gorgeous and sunny and the next rainy and miserable. Oysters and good gin are always called for, but so is Spiritus Pizza, a local pizza joint that serves up delicious pressed apple juice alongside large, floppy slices.

To me, though, Provincetown is also just a place to get lost. It’s a magnificent town to people watch in. I wish I could someday spend a week with my camera and just sit on various benches and photograph the diverse humans that weave their way in and out of Commercial Street as they hunt for a new painting, a place to eat, or perhaps somewhere to just get away from the crowds. When I am there I try to get up early and see the town before it is full of souls, and there is nothing better than

On one rainy afternoon with Exa and Emily, we walked into a little store and browsed. The owner of the store immediately broke into conversation about what we were looking at, and asked us where we were from. We chatted about lots of little things, and it felt really lovely to do so. The same thing happened earlier in the shop where I bought my beautiful blue woodblock printed dress, and again in another store. Provincetown is full of people who have fascinating stories and pasts and are more than willing to engage and share those pasts. I love humans- all of us are a unique sum of all our experiences, both good and bad, and none of us are the same. We all have to survive, thrive, and suffer together and being able to touch on people’s humanness and chat about books, about their store, or about what adventures and activities we were up to felt wonderful in a small, satisfying, the world isn’t so bad way. If that sounds hokey, that’s alright, but I’ll be the sappy optimist over the grumpy cynic that I worry I am becoming any day.


Feelin’ myself

34168114064_bce4cb23a4_c34168112094_9115f34b20_c34971988586_8c613bf9fe_c34168098654_e8d4b45142_c34168105784_bd46863abc_c34168097164_b4fc3def74_c34848222042_1694f8f7b2_c34971987416_0e2e825b74_cI sit in leggings on a couch back home in Montana, editing photographs and making a mental to-do list. There are plants to bring to our new home in Missoula. There is a job, somewhere, that I need to apply to and get so that I can have money, save to pay down student debts, buy new tires for my ancient car, and go camping with Logan. The sun is shining and I am feeling very vulnerable being unemployed, but it’s a beautiful day.

To combat negativity and bad thoughts that inevitably come as one looks for work, here is some evidence that one beautiful sunny day in Cape Cod I spent some time on the beach with my sister in a dress that fits my personality perfectly (even though my mum referred to it as “A bit Laura Ingalls Wilder”).


Back on the Cape


Some shots of the East Coast, which I haven’t been to in three years!

Fried clams, shrimp, greyhounds, tracking sand into the house, catching up with friends and family you haven’t seen in far too long…it’s been marvelous. The Atlantic has a very different feel about it than the Pacific I was so entranced by in British Columbia. Here, the oldest parts of American history resonate all around me as signs that pronounce the town I sleep in was founded in the early 1700s remind me that yes, there are hundreds of years of history that we don’t have in many ways out West.

Here I write about it as I pilfer Wifi surrounded by the older denizens of Cape Cod at our local Dunkin’ Donuts. I have taken hundreds of photographs, both digital and film, and I cannot wait for the chance to get more Wifi and show more of our adventures here.


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Time for the darker posts. It’s October. The mornings are crisp, the nights damp and chilly. The sun still coaxes us outside to feel its rays on our face but they feel weaker each day.

These are some photographs I took in 2014 in Cape Cod on a swamp trail. My mother and I escaped to the beaches, but it being early June it was still very cold. The trail was only a mile long but the rich darkness of everything in a swamp is eerie. I remember loving it- it felt like every bend of the boardwalk led us to another secret part of the earth. It was somewhere I wanted to see at night but with somebody I felt safe with.

Cape Cod in 35mm brilliance

Cape Cod in May is my favorite. The tourists haven’t swamped it yet, rain and clouds still hang around, and sweaters are still necessary. Gin and oysters are consumed, family is seen, and beaches are trolled. I fall in love again with how old everything is and I always see the best people while I’m there. Our yearly excursion to our little haus makes me so incredibly happy.

Sturdy old things make beautiful new things.

Shooting with a 70 year old Argus Argoflex is not an easy task. The top glass viewfinder is rather dark, and focusing never feels steady. There’s also no light meter, so proper guessing skills are a must!

However, for finding this beauty in a Goodwill in near perfect condition for $20, I don’t mind. Getting a good frame with this lovely camera takes work, so you have to earn each frame.

Not that I’m not looking at investing in a decent DSLR…with a decent lens…but first, I am planning a trip to Europe with my lovely sister and saving for graduate school. Those two things come first financially!

These images are from Cape Cod, on walks with my mother, meandering around the Portuguese-founded whaling town of Provincetown, and feeling salt in my hair and on my skin. It’s like nothing else! I also had a good quantity of decent gin on that trip. 🙂


The Cape: A look back

In about a month I’m heading back to Cape Cod for a glorious week. I’m stopping off in Boston for two days to see Exa, and then I’m off on the ferry for some good old adventure in a beautiful place!

People think Cape Cod and think polos, boats, gin, beaches, stripes and polka-dots, old money, nice cars, proper WASP breeding.

I think when my family arrives we sort of are the antithesis of this. We get a rental car at Logan, dress in whatever we bring from Montana, and show up to our little bungalow with questionable electric wiring. The yard is covered in pine needles. There’s not a dishwasher or a dryer so we hang out clothes in the backyard, where it takes over 24 hours for things to dry because of how humid it is.

We take outdoor showers at night while moths crowd the porch light. Soft moss grows in the patio cracks. The beach is a short walk away and sand is in the cracks in the house. The first time you slip into bed the sheets almost feel damp and you think, “I’m back.” It’s very different from Montana. People aren’t as friendly or open. The smells are all different- salt, sand, and greenery all inhabit your nostrils. Rain patters at night, and the mornings are chilled.

I like going in May when people haven’t arrived yet, when the beaches aren’t crowded, and when the baby plovers run in and out of the beach scrub early in the morning.


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Little parts of the Cape.

A sunset in Provincetown, a comedy show with some seriously awesome people, Exa on the beach and candids taken by others. Flower bushes, inns, pale legs, seafood on the gas stove, and poppy bunches.

The Cape is quiet and windy and humid. Your sheets feel damp, lightning storms make lovely outlines in your window. The harbor reeks at low tide and the sea gulls ruthlessly stalk the beach goers, eyeing coolers of food. Rose bushes in the beach dunes let off the most subtle smell and the slippery green on the rocks squishes between your toes.



All the green things

003_22A 005_20A 008_17A 014_11ABack from Cape Cod, I’ll be splitting up the photographs into several posts.

It rained a lot while we were there, the sound of it through the windows was lovely. One day I couldn’t stand being inside a moment longer and put on a coat and grabbed my camera with my f/1.4 lens. I know, I KNOW it is so ridiculous to get stoked about taking macro shots all the time, so I don’t, but the details that the rain and the contrast it brings out was gorgeous.

I was able to witness a determined bumblebee pollinate two rose bushes, despite sometimes being pummeled by a fat raindrop. Bees are some of the most gorgeous creatures to me- also, they’re rather genius! The shape of honeycomb is mathematically the most efficient and the strongest shape to support filling it with weight (like honey).

Off to work back in dry, hot Montana.