Northeaster

The storm began last night. By noon the rain came down in rattling gusts. I spent the day inside, reading "The Master" by Colm Toibin, and painting--watercolor--while rain came down through the vent in the bathroom ceiling. At home it must be coming down the chimney, as it always does in a northeaster, a storm that seems to weaken and then comes back stronger.

Tonight we'll have supper at the cafe at the Mews, and pack for our trip home. I once heard Seamus Heaney call Provincetown, "the Left Bank of New England." The Left Bank when the phrase meant Bohemia.

Two Angels: Provincetown

I call the angels "Pearl" and "Rust." Pearl is a boy painted white; his hair is bleached to ash. He will move if you drop money in the blue glass jar. Otherwise he is as immovable as Rust. Do you have a favorite?