The beginning of no-left-turn season has arrived along with the pine pollen fog. The cool mornings invite cocoa on the porch, while the hot sunny afternoons beckon a read on the beach. Along the railtrail the scents of dry oak leaves mingle with iodine tinged salt air. The town triangle is bedecked with tricolors of stripes and stars. No place like it on earth. Nauset water claims to be 54 degrees, but my toe says its more like 48. No sailing this week since the arm is still enshrined in a cast. Maybe next time.
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