#B&B Cape Cod Near Beach

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Mystery Street

Before he moved on to large-scale adventure films like THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN (1960) and THE GREAT ESCAPE (1963), John Sturges directed a string of tidy films noirs for various studios, including MGM. His MYSTERY STREET (1950, TCM), with a script by Sydney Boehm and Richard Brooks from a Leonard Spigelgass story inspired by a real-life case, was one of the first films shot on location in Boston and one of the first to focus on the forensic side of police detective work.

B-girl (that’s Production Code-speak for “hooker”) Jan Sterling enlists a drunken Marshall Thompson’s car to help track down a suitor who’s been dodging her. After stealing Marshall’s car, she gets shot for her trouble, and six months later, her bones are discovered on the beach near Cape Cod. Police detective Ricardo Montalban enlists Harvard forensic scientist Bruce Bennett to study the skeleton and comes up with enough evidence to arrest Thompson. But we know he didn’t do it. The case is all about the evidence, as Bennett uses science (remember that?) to determine how Sterling died while Montalban uses old-fashioned police work and his own instincts to track down the real killer.

Montalban’s casting is particularly interesting, as he’s the rare Latinx character for the period who isn’t stereotyped. He’s very good at his job and accepted as an equal by his colleagues. Race isn’t totally invisible. One suspect tries to pull rank on him, claiming to be descended from one of the state’s founding families, which gives him the right to some respect. Montalban throws the line right back at him, demanding respect in his own right, “and my family hasn’t been in the country for even 100 years.”

With John Alton running the camera even the Cape Cod scenes seem threatening, and his generous use of shadows helps keep up the suspense. In addition, Sturges has a top-notch cast, including Elsa Lanchester, stealing scenes as Sterling’s scheming landlady, and Betsy Blair, particularly fine as a neighbor who ends up helping with the case. Even Sally Forrest, who rarely did good work when not directed by Ida Lupino, has one beautiful moment as Thompson’s wife. While her husband’s in jail awaiting trial, Montalban asks her to read off their canceled checks from the month of the murder, which becomes a lesson in personalization. But top honors go to Sterling, who has about five minutes to develop a character who will haunt the film. She pulls it off by playing the role as if it were the lead. She’s so fully invested in the character you feel her loss keenly and can understand how the case could obsess even the detective who’s never met her.

[beenleem]

Autumn Romance on the Cape: Charming B&Bs for Holidays 2024

Cape Cod in autumn offers a unique backdrop for couples seeking a cozy and romantic getaway. The crisp air, golden hues of fall, and serene coastal views make it an ideal destination for spending time with your loved one. Whether planning a quiet retreat or an adventurous holiday, finding the right romantic bed and breakfast in Cape Cod can set the perfect tone for your trip.

What to Look for in a Romantic B&B

Finding the right romantic bed and breakfast can make your autumn getaway unforgettable. Here are a few features to keep in mind when choosing the perfect place for you and your partner.

Cozy and Inviting Atmosphere: A romantic B&B should feel like a home away from home, with a warm and welcoming ambiance. Look for inns that offer intimate touches like soft lighting, plush bedding, and tastefully decorated rooms that create a relaxing environment. Many places in Cape Cod take extra care to highlight the charm of the season with fall-inspired décor, enhancing the cozy vibes.

Scenic Surroundings: Location is key when selecting a romantic retreat. The best B&Bs are tucked away in peaceful settings, offering stunning views of Cape Cod's natural beauty. Whether overlooking the bay or nestled near quiet woods, a scenic spot sets the tone for your romantic holiday. Some properties even have private gardens or outdoor seating areas where couples can enjoy quiet moments together.

Private Amenities: Privacy is an essential part of any romantic getaway. B&Bs that offer rooms with private entrances, balconies, or en-suite bathrooms add a layer of comfort and seclusion. Bonus features like fireplaces, whirlpool tubs, or canopy beds can make your stay even more special.

Delicious Breakfast Options: A good breakfast can be a highlight of your stay. Many romantic bed and breakfasts in Cape Cod take pride in serving homemade breakfasts with fresh, local ingredients. From baked goods to seasonal specialties, these meals can be enjoyed in a communal dining room or brought to your room for a more intimate start to the day.

Personalized Hospitality: A great B&B experience often comes down to the innkeepers. Hosts who go the extra mile to make guests feel welcome, provide local recommendations, or offer special services like arranging romantic dinners or excursions can make all the difference.

Access to Activities and Attractions: While a romantic B&B should provide a peaceful escape, having access to nearby activities can add fun and variety to your trip. Many inns in Cape Cod are conveniently located near walking trails, beaches, or charming villages, giving you plenty of opportunities to explore together.

Activities to Enjoy During Your Stay

While staying at your chosen romantic bed and breakfast in Cape Cod, take advantage of local activities designed for the two of you, more than just cozy accommodations—it’s the gateway to a variety of activities perfect for couples. Whether you prefer leisurely adventures or exciting outings, Cape Cod has something to offer this autumn.

Strolling Along Quiet Beaches: Cape Cod’s beaches are especially serene in the fall, offering miles of peaceful coastline to explore hand in hand. The cooler weather and stunning autumn skies create the perfect setting for a romantic walk along the shore. Don’t miss spots like Nauset Beach or West Dennis Beach, where you can enjoy the sound of waves without the summer crowds.

Visiting Local Wineries: Fall is a wonderful time to explore Cape Cod’s wineries and vineyards. Many offer tastings of locally crafted wines, often paired with snacks or small plates. It’s a relaxing way to spend an afternoon while enjoying the region's flavors and scenic vineyard views. Truro Vineyards is a short trip away!

Exploring Quaint Villages: The small towns and villages of Cape Cod are filled with charm. Spend the day wandering through Chatham or Provincetown, where you’ll find unique boutiques, art galleries, and cozy cafés. These quiet streets are perfect for leisurely exploring while picking up one-of-a-kind treasures or just enjoying the local atmosphere.

Sunset Boat Rides: A boat ride on Pleasant Bay or Cape Cod Bay is a romantic way to enjoy the water and take in the stunning fall sunsets. Some local companies offer private or small-group tours that cater to couples. Bundle up and enjoy the view as the sun paints the sky with warm, golden hues.

Dining with a View: Cape Cod is known for its excellent seafood and charming restaurants. Many dining spots feature beautiful views of the ocean or bay, offering the perfect setting for a romantic meal. Fall menus often include seasonal specials like warm chowders and hearty seafood dishes, adding to the cozy atmosphere.

Discovering Local Festivals: Autumn in Cape Cod is also festival season, with events like craft fairs, food festivals, and farmers’ markets. These gatherings are a fun way to experience local culture, try unique foods, and find handcrafted items to take home as souvenirs.

Hiking and Nature Walks: If you and your partner enjoy outdoor activities, Cape Cod’s trails are ideal for fall exploration. The Cape Cod Rail Trail offers miles of easy walking or biking paths through wooded areas and open spaces. For something more rugged, try the trails at Nickerson State Park or the Wellfleet Bay Wildlife Sanctuary, where you can spot wildlife and enjoy the crisp autumn air.

Why Choose A Little Inn on Pleasant Bay

When it comes to planning a romantic getaway in Cape Cod, the accommodations you choose can shape the experience. A Little Inn on Pleasant Bay stands out as an excellent choice for couples seeking a peaceful and memorable retreat this autumn.

Stunning Waterfront Location: Nestled along the shores of Pleasant Bay, our inn offers stunning water views and a serene setting that feels like an escape from the everyday. Couples can enjoy the gentle sounds of the bay and breathtaking sunsets from the property’s cozy outdoor seating areas.

Intimate and Relaxing Atmosphere: The inn is designed with romance in mind, featuring well-appointed rooms that provide comfort and charm. From plush bedding to thoughtful décor, every detail contributes to a relaxing stay. With fewer guests than a large hotel, the atmosphere is quiet and perfect for unwinding with your partner.

Personalized Hospitality: Our innkeepers go above and beyond to ensure every guest feels welcome. Their warm and attentive service makes it easy to settle in and enjoy your stay. They’re also happy to provide recommendations for local restaurants, activities, and scenic spots that are perfect for couples.

Delicious Seasonal Breakfasts: A homemade breakfast is a highlight of any visit to a bed and breakfast, and this inn delivers. Start your day with freshly prepared dishes made from local ingredients, served in a bright and inviting dining area. It’s the perfect way to fuel up for a day of exploring Cape Cod.

Proximity to Romantic Activities: Our inn’s central location makes it easy to enjoy some of the best activities Cape Cod has to offer. Whether you’re planning a beach stroll, visiting a winery, or taking a boat ride, everything is just a short drive away. At the same time, the inn’s peaceful surroundings let you retreat to tranquility after a day of adventure.

Plan Your Autumn Escape Today

Ready to experience the magic of Cape Cod this fall? Book your stay at our inn now and create unforgettable moments with your partner at one of the best romantic bed and breakfast in Cape Cod. With its serene location, cozy ambiance, and proximity to romantic activities, our charming inn is the perfect choice for your autumn getaway. Don’t wait—reserve your spot soon and make your holiday truly special!

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A Little Inn on Pleasant Bay: The Premier B&B Near Chatham, MA

When people dream of a peaceful Cape Cod escape, their vision often includes charming waterfront views, elegant rooms, and warm hospitality. A Little Inn on Pleasant Bay, located near Chatham, MA, embodies that dream. This quaint B&B is nestled along the serene shores of Pleasant Bay, offering a perfect balance of luxury and relaxation. Whether you're looking for a romantic getaway or a peaceful retreat, this B&B Chatham, MA, provides an experience that captures the essence of Cape Cod’s charm.

The Perfect Cape Cod Setting

Situated between the picturesque towns of Chatham and Orleans, A Little Inn on Pleasant Bay is perfectly located for visitors wanting to explore the beauty of the Cape. Just minutes from Chatham, MA, this bed and breakfast is close enough to enjoy the town’s bustling downtown area but far enough to offer a tranquil retreat away from the crowd.

Chatham itself is known for its quaint New England charm, historic sites, and beautiful beaches. The proximity to Chatham makes this B&B a convenient base for day trips to explore the Chatham Lighthouse, stroll along Main Street’s boutique shops, or relax on one of the town’s stunning beaches, such as Harding Beach or Lighthouse Beach.

After a day of exploring the charming streets of Chatham, guests of A Little Inn on Pleasant Bay can return to the peaceful, picturesque surroundings of Pleasant Bay. Here, time seems to slow down as you soak in the sweeping water views, watch sailboats drift by, and unwind in the lush gardens that surround the inn.

A Little Inn on Pleasant Bay: Cape Cod’s Best Kept Secret

While the area surrounding Chatham is known for its beauty, A Little Inn on Pleasant Bay stands out as a hidden gem among Cape Cod accommodations. This B&B Chatham, MA, is a traditional Cape Cod-style inn, with classic architecture, white clapboard siding, and tasteful, understated décor that evokes a sense of timeless elegance. The inn exudes warmth and character from the moment you arrive.

What makes this B&B truly special, however, is the attention to detail and the personalized service that the innkeepers offer. From the moment you check in, you’ll be treated as more than just a guest. The innkeepers are eager to share their knowledge of the area, offering recommendations for restaurants, activities, and local hidden treasures to make your stay as memorable as possible.

The guest rooms at A Little Inn on Pleasant Bay are designed with comfort and relaxation in mind. Each room is individually decorated, blending classic New England style with modern conveniences. Many rooms offer stunning views of Pleasant Bay or the inn’s beautifully manicured gardens. With plush bedding, private en-suite bathrooms, and thoughtful amenities like complimentary Wi-Fi and air conditioning, you’ll find everything you need for a comfortable and luxurious stay.

A Gourmet Breakfast with a View

No stay at a B&B is complete without a hearty breakfast, and A Little Inn on Pleasant Bay takes this tradition seriously. Every morning, guests are treated to a gourmet breakfast served in the sunny dining room, which boasts large windows overlooking Pleasant Bay. The ever-changing breakfast menu features a delightful array of freshly prepared items, such as homemade pastries, fresh fruit, eggs cooked to order, and more.

If you prefer, you can take your breakfast outside and enjoy it on the patio, where you can listen to the sounds of the bay as you sip your coffee. The peaceful setting, combined with the delicious food, makes breakfast at this B&B near Chatham, MA, one of the highlights of your stay.

Activities and Exploration Around Chatham, MA

One of the biggest draws of staying at A Little Inn on Pleasant Bay is its prime location. The inn offers easy access to a wide variety of activities and attractions in Chatham and the surrounding area. Whether you’re an outdoor enthusiast, a history buff, or someone looking for a little rest and relaxation, there’s something for everyone.

For nature lovers, the Cape Cod National Seashore is just a short drive away. Here, you can explore miles of pristine beaches, walking trails, and scenic viewpoints. Birdwatchers will appreciate the nearby Monomoy National Wildlife Refuge, where you can spot a wide variety of bird species.

If you’re interested in maritime history, Chatham’s Marconi Maritime Center and Chatham Lighthouse provide fascinating insights into the region’s past. You can also visit the Atwood House Museum, a historic home that offers a glimpse into life on Cape Cod in the 18th century.

For those who prefer to stay closer to the inn, Pleasant Bay offers opportunities for kayaking, sailing, or paddleboarding. The inn even has its own dock, allowing guests to easily access the water for a day of exploration or relaxation.

Romantic Getaways and Special Occasions

A Little Inn on Pleasant Bay is also the perfect destination for romantic getaways or special celebrations. The peaceful setting and elegant accommodations create an intimate atmosphere that’s ideal for couples looking to escape the stresses of everyday life. Whether you’re celebrating an anniversary, honeymoon, or just want a quiet weekend away, this B&B near Chatham, MA offers the perfect backdrop for romance.

The inn’s beautiful gardens, waterfront views, and warm hospitality make it a popular spot for small weddings, elopements, and vow renewals. The innkeepers are experienced in hosting intimate events and can help coordinate everything from the ceremony to the reception, ensuring that your special day is as perfect as the setting.

Why Choose A Little Inn on Pleasant Bay?

In a region known for its charming accommodations, A Little Inn on Pleasant Bay stands out as one of the best B&Bs near Chatham, MA. From its stunning location on Pleasant Bay to its warm and personalized service, this inn offers an experience that goes beyond the ordinary. Whether you’re visiting Cape Cod for the first time or are a frequent visitor, A Little Inn on Pleasant Bay provides the perfect retreat for relaxation, romance, and adventure.

With its close proximity to Chatham, MA, and easy access to the best that Cape Cod has to offer, there’s no better place to stay than this charming B&B. Book your stay at A Little Inn on Pleasant Bay and discover why so many guests return year after year to experience the magic of Cape Cod.

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Unveiling Chatham's Enchanting Bed and Breakfasts: A Beginner's Guide to Hospitality

Nestled along the picturesque shores of Cape Cod, Chatham, Massachusetts, beckons travelers seeking a delightful escape. Renowned for its pristine beaches, quaint seaside villages, and rich maritime heritage, Chatham offers an idyllic setting for a memorable getaway. And what better way to immerse oneself in this captivating town than by indulging in the warmth and hospitality of its charming bed and breakfasts?

1. Captain's House Inn: A Glimpse into Best b&b in chatham, Ma

Step back in time and experience the grandeur of a bygone era at the Captain's House Inn, a stately 1839 mansion that exudes elegance and charm. This historic bed and breakfast, adorned with period antiques and refined décor, offers guests a unique glimpse into Chatham's maritime heritage.

2. The Old Harbor Inn: Where Gracious Hospitality Meets Cape Cod Comfort

The Old Harbor Inn, a colonial-style gem nestled in the heart of Chatham, exudes a sense of tranquility and warmth. Each of the inn's inviting rooms features its own unique charm, complemented by the innkeepers' genuine hospitality and commitment to providing a memorable guest experience.

3. Chatham Inn: A Seaside Retreat of Sophistication and Relaxation

For those seeking a blend of sophistication and seaside charm, the Chatham Inn provides an ideal haven. This elegant bed and breakfast boasts tastefully appointed rooms, each offering a sanctuary of relaxation and comfort. Indulge in the inn's gourmet dining and unwind in the tranquil gardens, all while enjoying the breathtaking views of Chatham's harbor.

4. Culdesac Cottage Bed and Breakfast: A Hidden Gem of Intimate Charm

Tucked away in a quiet corner of Chatham, Culdesac Cottage Bed and Breakfast offers an intimate and inviting escape. This charming bed and breakfast, with its cozy rooms and personalized service, provides a perfect retreat for couples or solo travelers seeking a peaceful getaway.

5. Chatham Wayside Inn: A Quaint Retreat in the Heart of Chatham

The Chatham Wayside Inn, located in the heart of the town's historic district, provides a convenient and charming base for exploring Chatham's attractions. This well-appointed bed and breakfast offers a variety of rooms to suit various needs, all within easy walking distance of shops, restaurants, and the town harbor.

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Discover the enchanting bed and breakfasts of Chatham, Massachusetts, where comfort, elegance, and personalized hospitality await. Embark on a journey of tranquility and charm amidst Cape Cod's captivating scenery.

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Embrace the allure of Chatham's bed and breakfasts and book your stay today. Experience the warmth of hospitality, the elegance of historic settings, and the beauty of Cape Cod's captivating scenery.

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Exploring the Best Accommodations in Orleans, MA and Charming Cape Cod B&Bs

Cape Cod, with its picturesque landscapes, stunning coastlines, and rich maritime history, is a dream destination for many travelers. Nestled on the eastern coast of Massachusetts, Best b&b in chatham, Ma offers a unique blend of natural beauty and New England charm. When planning your visit to this captivating region, one of the most crucial decisions you'll make is choosing where to stay. In this article, we'll explore the best accommodations in Orleans, MA, and highlight the allure of Cape Cod's charming bed and breakfasts (B&Bs).

Hotels in Orleans, MA

Orleans, located in the heart of Cape Cod, is a fantastic base for your hotels near orleans cape cod adventure. It offers a diverse selection of hotels that cater to various preferences and budgets.

The Cove at Yarmouth: Overlooking scenic Lewis Bay, this hotel offers comfortable rooms, a spa, and easy access to beaches, making it an excellent choice for relaxation.

The Parsonage Inn: A historic gem in Orleans, this inn combines old-world charm with modern comforts, featuring elegant rooms and a delightful garden.

Orleans Waterfront Inn: Nestled along the coast, this inn boasts stunning views, cozy rooms, and easy access to beaches, perfect for water enthusiasts.

Charming B&Bs in Cape Cod

If you're seeking a more intimate and personalized experience, Cape Cod's B&Bs are a perfect choice. These quaint and cozy accommodations offer a unique way to immerse yourself in the Cape's culture and hospitality.

A Little Inn on Pleasant Bay: Located in Chatham, MA, this B&B provides a romantic retreat with breathtaking water views, comfortable rooms, and gourmet breakfasts.

Captain Freeman Inn: Situated in Brewster, this B&B exudes historic charm and offers a tranquil escape with beautifully appointed rooms and a delicious breakfast.

The Old Manse Inn: In Brewster, you'll find this charming B&B with well-appointed rooms, lovely gardens, and a hearty breakfast, all within close proximity to the Cape's attractions.

Cape Cod's B&Bs are renowned for their personalized service, attention to detail, and warm hospitality. Staying at a B&B allows you to connect with the local culture, get insider tips from your hosts, and enjoy a delicious homemade breakfast to start your day right.

Whether you opt for a comfortable hotel in Orleans, MA, or a charming B&B in Cape Cod, you're sure to experience the region's natural beauty, rich history, and warm hospitality. No matter where you choose to stay, your Cape Cod adventure promises unforgettable moments, picturesque landscapes, and a taste of New England's coastal charm.

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Blue-Chip Pocket - 708sqm Land - Ocean Views

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Ten things I know about flying in Massachusetts

If you have an airplane, Massachusetts is a tiny little state. Depending on what you’re flying, it’ll take less than 90 minutes to fly the 164 nm between Nantucket (ACK) and North Adams (AQW) – the longest intra-state flight. That’s what it seems to take some nights driving home from downtown Boston.

It’s New England so we get our share of weather from snow to thunderstorms, but things tend to blow through quickly and the vast majority of the 60+ days I flew here last year were VMC. If I had to pick one season as my favorite, I would definitely select fall. Other than occasional frost on the wings in the early morning, conditions are generally perfect for flying. And watching the foliage change from the air is a sight to see. Here are 10 other things to do while flying in my adopted state of Massachusetts.

1. Cape Cod

Starting from anywhere in the Boston area, head out over Provincetown, then down along the eastern shoreline to take in spectacular views of Cape Cod – a uniquely shaped sand bar that is visible from space and instantly recognizable on any map. You’ll see Cape Cod Bay, Nantucket, Martha’s Vineyard, and the Cape Cod Canal. Seals sunning on the beach are a common sight and you might even find a whale or two in the open water (look for the whale watching boats).

Be aware that most of Cape Cod appears on the charts with blue dots designating it as a wildlife/wilderness/National Park area so – per the FAA’s AIM – pilots are requested to fly at least 2,000 feet overhead. Along the way, stop for a meal at ACK, MVY, or Chatham (CQX). If you have more time, land at the New Bedford Airport (EWB) and head over to the New England Whaling Museum (less than 5 miles from the airport). Afterwards, catch a meal at the Moby Dick Brewing Company (located at the museum).

2. Katama Airpark on MVY

Katama Airpark is a throwback.

A visit to Katama Airpark (1B2) should be on every pilot’s bucket list. This airport on the eastern edge of Martha’s Vineyard is a throwback to an earlier era with three excellent turf runways, one 3,700 feet long. There is a small breakfast/lunch cafe on the field (but no fuel). One of the best parts is that the airport has a second parking area right next to the shoreline so you can taxi out, hit the beach, and then fly home. Located just outside the MVY Class D airspace, be on the lookout for scenic flights along the shoreline. There is a $10 landing fee plus $15 to park at the beach. For an unforgettable day, combine this with the Cape Cod scenic route.

3. City tour

While not quite the VFR Corridor next to New York City, Boston Approach will allow a scenic flight that takes you over the Charles River at 1,500 feet and affords amazing views of downtown, the Prudential Center, Fenway Park, MIT, Cambridge, and Harvard. Known to ATC as “The City Tour,” this will only be approved if Boston Logan (BOS) is landing north/south, but you’ll likely have the airspace to yourself and won’t have to keep your head on a swivel like the NYC VFR corridor.

The protocol is to contact Boston Approach (124.4) outside the Class Bravo in the vicinity of the Intersection of Rt 128 (I-95) and the Mass Pike with “Request transit Class Bravo for City Tour, Charles River to Back Bay, then return westbound.” You then follow the Charles River/Pike eastbound until you get to the Charles River basin. You might be instructed to cut things short and make a 180-degree turn at the BU or Mass Ave Bridges so it’s critical to be able to recognize landmarks. For first timers, this is best done with someone who has local knowledge.

4. Military activity

Massachusetts lost many military facilities during the base closing exercise but still has several reserve units. Westover Airport (CEF) is home to the Westover Air Reserve Base while Barnes Airport (BAF), just eight miles to the west, hosts the Massachusetts Air National Guard.

Both Barnes and Westover are now mixed uses. Although there are no guarantees, I frequently see F-15s at Barnes when eating at SOK’S Runway Cafe, which overlooks the field. And on a recent visit to Westover, I witnessed the amazing sight of a C-5B Galaxy transport doing touch and gos on the 10,000+ foot runway.

5. Curious Navaids

Back in the day, some FAA planner must have been a Three Stooges fan as my home airport of Norwood (OWD) has both STOGE and CURLI intersections (I am not sure what happened to Shemp or Moe). The Cape has a Marconi VOR (LFV) named for Guglielmo Marconi and placed near the site of the first transcontinental radio communication between America and Europe in 1903. Of course, there are departures from Boston Logan that feature waypoints named for all five of our sports teams – BRUWN, CELTK, SSOXS, PATSS, and REVSS. And I just love hearing a controller with a strong Boston Accent clear someone direct to the nearby MNSTA or LBSTA waypoints.

6. Boston Logan (BOS)

Logan Airport packs a lot of runway into a tight spot.

I’ve flown into Logan dozen of times on Angel Flights. The controllers are very helpful and accommodating, but it’s busy airspace so you need to be on your game. Expect to be asked to keep your speed up until five miles out. If the weather allows visual approaches, they may be landing on parallel runways. Be aware that, due to the proximity of the runways, you must confirm that you see traffic landing on the parallel and acknowledge that you will maintain visual separation. The fees are quite high so best to do on a charity flight, which gets the fees waived. Like all busy airports, study the diagram to identify the Signature’s FBO location before you land and switch over to ground immediately after being instructed by the tower.

7. Shortest runway of any Class B airport

Boston has two sets of parallel runways. The 4/22 runways (R & L) are used the vast majority of the time due to the prevailing north/south winds – and even if there is a slight crosswind. But when the wind blows strong east/west, they start landing the big boys on the 10,083-foot 15R/33L. And for the rest of us, we’re assigned the 2,557 foot 15L/33R. Used strictly for visual approaches by smaller aircraft (with instructions to jog out the approach so you won’t overfly planes departing on runway 27,) the length might scare you off but since 15/33 is only used when the winds are strong you should have no trouble sticking it!

In preparing this writeup, I studied the taxi diagrams for all 37 Class B airports and the only other Class B runway shorter than 5,000 feet is Salt Lake City’s (SLC) runway 14/32 at 4,893.

8. Restricted airspace

The good news is that – other than Boston’s Class Bravo – there simply isn’t much! Just to the west of Boston is a tiny area that is primarily active on Saturdays for weekend activity of the Massachusetts National Guard. To the east of Boston on Cape Cod is the Otis Air National Guard base with a small area that is restricted seven days a week. Enclosed within that airspace is the Pave Paws Radar – a Cold War-era early detection system where flight below 4,500 feet is not permitted even if the area is cold. And although it is not restricted airspace, to the south of Marth’s Vineyard is the appropriately named Nomans Land, an island that was used by the US Navy from 1943 to 1996 for aerial target practice. After a cleanup in 1998, the island was turned over to the US Fish & Wildlife Department as a wildlife refuge but access to the island is still prohibited – after 43 years of bombing practice, there’s sure to be ordinance left behind, although the birds don’t seem to mind at all.

9. Airport restaurants

On-field restaurants come and go. In preparing this write-up, I verified that the following is accurate as of November 2019 and even found several restaurants that I did not know about so I have a few more destinations for my $100 hamburgers. (B=breakfast, L=Lunch, and D=Dinner). All are open 7 days a week except where noted.

Barnes – BAF (LD x 5, B x 1)

Chatham – CQX (BL x 5)

Hopedale – 1B6 (LD)

Katama – 1B2 (BL-Seasonal)

Lawrence – LWM (BL)

Mansfield 1B9 – (BL)

Martha’s Vineyard – MVY (BLD)

Nantucket – ACK (BLD)

New Bedford – EWB (LD)

Norwood – OWD – (LD x 6)

Orange – ORE (BL x 6)

Plymouth – PYM (BL)

Southbridge – 3B0 – (BL x 3, BLD x 2)

Stow / Minute Man – 6B6 (BL x 3, BLD x 2)

Marlboro is gone, but not forgotten.

10. Marlboro Airport (9B1)

An oldies DJ used to say, “Gone from the charts but not from our hearts, let’s hear it for the platters that matter.” I could say the same thing about the recently closed Marlboro Airport which – until last year – was the oldest continually operated airport in Massachusetts (opening one year before Boston Logan). When I evaluated where to begin my pilot training in 1988, the two closest options were the super-busy Hanscom Field in Bedford (BED) or little ole’ Marlboro. And I do mean little as the uncontrolled field had a single runway just 1,659 feet long. Not only that, but one runway had the proverbial 80-foot tree off the end while the other had a 4-foot chain link fence next to a busy road (look out for the passing box truck). What my training lacked in radio communications, it more than compensated with short field technique, as every flight required you to nail either the climbout or the approach in order to miss that tree (there were actually two large trees and you aimed for the V in between).

I eventually got my private pilot license flying out of Marlboro but soon went into a partnership at another airport and only came back once, many years later, to prove that I still had “what it takes” to get into a 1,659-foot field. But over the years, fewer and fewer people followed my path to Marlboro for flying lessons and once the flight school closed the die was cast. Like the family ski area, the economics no longer seems to work for sleepy little airports but while Marlboro will soon be marked with an X on the charts, it will always have a place in my heart.

This is another entry in our “What I know about flying in…” series. If you’d like to write about your home state or country, email us: editor@airfactsjournal.com

The post Ten things I know about flying in Massachusetts appeared first on Air Facts Journal.

from Engineering Blog https://airfactsjournal.com/2019/11/ten-things-i-know-about-flying-in-massachusetts/

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Sailing Nova Scotia: Jagged coastline makes for a unique cruising experience

Nova Scotia’s intricate coastline has wilderness, history and civilisation in abundance. Tom Zydler explores it

All photos: Tom Zydler

As soon as the sun began to disperse the fog that had settled at night over Pubnico Harbour we weighed anchor. Cape Sable was about 15 miles away and the wind, light and contrary, made it slow going.

Three hours later a sheen in the veil of wet haze changed into a low, sandy shore. My wife, Nancy, spotted the first buoy, a red dot bobbing in and out of sight among the waves. We noticed the current was still running with us to the east. The visibility wasn’t too bad. We now motored less than a third of a mile from land.

To starboard, swells grew higher and higher on scattered shoals only 150m away. On the shallowest spots of Horse Race, a wall of swelling sea thundered and collapsed before reaching our channel. Soon a tall lighthouse came into sight and then vanished behind as our Mason 44, Frances B, popped out into much smoother waters.

Molly’s Cove on Shelter Island, a gem of the Eastern Shore

This inshore shortcut close by Cape Sable made rounding the southernmost tip of Nova Scotia a fast and exciting jaunt. Earlier, from the west, we crossed the famed Bay of Fundy with its extreme tides to Brier Island – the boyhood home of Joshua Slocum, the first of the great single-handers. The red cedar shake boot shop of the Slocum family still overlooks the harbour.

Every summer currents filled with plankton and krill bring hundreds of whales to the overfalls off Brier Island, yet in June 2017 we failed to spot any. It was an unusual year when most of the right whales in search of food moved instead into the Gulf of St Lawrence.

South of the tiny, remote Brier Island and over on the mainland of Nova Scotia lies the port of Yarmouth. Entirely protected from winter gales it was once a major centre of shipping and shipbuilders. Today the wharves built near and over the old launching ways serve countless fishing vessels of all types. Up the harbour and downtown yachts pick up moorings or tie up at a small marina.

Article continues below…

Sailing in Cuba: The joys of exploring the island by yacht

“If someone has to go to prison, I volunteer,” said new first mate, Neal, with a grin as we sat…

Sailing to Svalbard: Arctic archipelago yields up its stark beauty

“Congratulations, captain.” Dave McKay, one of our regular crew aboard Isbjörn, had those words for me as we dropped anchor…

It didn’t take long to get a sample of Bay of Fundy currents. Fog, thick enough to chop with a hatchet, took a long time to lift over Yarmouth Harbour. As it thinned we left, a few hours too late to carry a fair current all the way. Schooner Passage through Tusket Islands offers a shortcut safe from tidal overfalls and open ocean swells but the currents, in half flood, had already turned contrary when Frances B pointed her nose between ghostly islets in the thickening fog.

We revved the engine to speed up. Instead of the usual six plus knots the GPS registered about a knot and half. At least in the lee of the island the sea flattened, broken only by eddies and swirls of tide. Finally, out of the Passage, the wider waters diluted the fierce stream. The course change towards Pubnico, our staging anchorage for rounding Cape Sable, brought clearing afternoon airs and fair current.

East of Cape Sable tides diminish, the seas calm down. Ahead stretch 250 miles of Nova Scotia, its coast shredded into inlets, sounds, bays and coves, all easily accessible in day trips. A long inlet a few hours from Cape Sable hides Shelburne. Every boat sailing Nova Scotia will sooner or later show up here to refit, relax and socialise.

A ‘Redcoat’ guards the Shelburne home of a loyalist who escaped the 1776 American Revolution

At the yacht club docks we spotted the bluewater ketch Kantala. Michael and Sheila Donnan built her in British Columbia more than 20 years ago before setting off to make ‘a Guinness World Record for the slowest circumnavigation’.

The 20m schooner Wolfhound was quite a sight too. Artist Steven Dews and his wife, Louise, have allowed for about ten years of cruising to reach their home base in New Zealand. Steven is a maritime artist famous for spectacular canvasses of sailing ships and classic yachts.

The waterfront near the yacht club shows preserved evidence of maritime history. The cooper shop dates back to the 19th Century, and the schooners bound for offshore banks once stopped in Shelburne to buy boats made in the Dory Shop – its doors are still open.

Among Canadian yachtsmen, starved of sandy, sunny beaches, Port Mouton counts as an irresistible summer destination. On this coast, summer morning south-westerly airs may, by the late afternoon, due to hot air rising over the land, muscle up to a really strong breeze. After midday we had already reefed the main and rolled some of the genoa.

Gybing into Western Channel brought the rising chop right astern, the wind 20 knots. Steering by hand we raced by the buoys, rolled up the genoa and screamed within spitting distance of a red beacon. A long beach backed by high dunes opened up to view, and the forest at the background cut the wind to a breeze while the anchor splashed into Caribbean blue water. The setting sun threw long shadows on the sand.

Port Mouton isn’t all about lolling in the sun. Out of sight behind a massive breakwater hums a busy fishing fleet. After the collapse of cod stocks Canada introduced very strict conservation policies; an open season for some species may last only few days. One autumn evening we counted 57 longliners leaving port at high speed.

Bluenose II, the pride of Nova Scotia, sails off Lunenburg harbour

Of all the port towns with maritime heritage, Lunenburg is the most irresistible. As we reached from the outer waters into Lunenburg Bay a hilly skyline of steeples rose ahead. The waterfront resembled a 19th Century etching complete with masts of schooners and square riggers.

With luck you can tie up at the exquisite Fisheries Museum of the Atlantic next to the Bluenose II, a schooner that beat the best of the American competition from Gloucester. Beloved by Canadians, Bluenose II often ventures out – a thrilling sight in the bay. The town has managed to hold back developers’ bulldozers and lovingly maintained timber architecture lines the streets. No wonder Lunenburg is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

The Labrador Current from the Arctic bathes the coast of Nova Scotia, but the Gulf Stream flows north a bit farther offshore, its warmth serving as a hurricane path. Now and then an odd tropical storm pummels the coast. Come September it pays to listen to the weather coming from the East Coast of the US.

Fortunately, Lunenburg is surrounded by a choice of escape anchorages. Twice we sought refuge in La Have River just around the corner to the south-west.

To the north-east opens Mahone Bay. A vast body of water, scores of Islands, bays, yacht clubs, marinas and boatyards add to the busy summer sailing scene. In search of tranquility we sailed into Deep Cove, a cleft on the Bay’s high, cliffy east shore. A narrow channel, precipitous on one side and densely forested on the other, culminated in a pond. A necklace of moorings for local yachts kindly left the middle for visitors to anchor.

Halifax, with a population of 400,000 plus, naturally offers everything your yachting heart may desire plus a culturally thriving city. The great peninsula in the western approaches, a 20-mile stretch punctured by eight inlets that themselves branch into side arms, is the local yachtsmen’s fabled playground.

Considering the numbers of boats in Halifax we made sure to sample these coves on weekdays. Entering Prospect Bay and heading into Rogue’s Roost was a bit hairy since the high tide covered even the tips of the kelp fronds, an early warning of the rocks under. As novices in this maze of rocks and islets we motored gingerly in.

The chart promised a tight, deep pool to starboard, good enough for one boat of our size in this wonderfully wild place, despite Halifax throbbing around the corner. On Friday afternoon yachts began flocking in but by then we were secure in our bowl among hills.

East of Halifax is the least populated part of maritime Nova Scotia. Rising ocean levels changed deep gorges sculpted by receding ice millennia ago into long forested bays which in turn fork into enticing arms. Miniature archipelagoes of islands and islets, the passages between them open to careful navigators, dot the coast.

Molly’s Cove on Shelter Island, part of Pope’s Harbour, is particularly memorable for its clear, blue waters, the forests reflecting in the mirror calm sea.

Aquaculture certainly is making its mark in many coves protected from ocean swells. However, there is always room to anchor or pass by. We swung into the well-marked channel into Whitehead Harbour, our mind on anchoring in Yankee Cove. As is often in these waters a large reef of rocks positioned itself smack in the middle.

A handy perch for an osprey on a yacht’s rigging

A bit of careful slaloming led in when a large installation of mostly submerged cages hove in sight leaving free space to anchor in a nicely protected indent in the shore.

The prevalent ocean swells on this coast come from south-east, a feature to remember when choosing an anchorage. Most of the prominent bays are cut into the mainland towards north-west. The exception is Liscomb Harbour, a four-mile long east-to-west slot. Three islands off the entrance effectively bar the ocean swells from intruding. As in other harbours of the Eastern Shore, less than a handful of houses stood among trees on the shore.

At the west end of the run rises Liscomb Lodge, large, but tastefully hidden on the cliff top. A floating dock, good for about one 15m boat, was taken but we found shelter in a narrow passage. Somewhere outside howled a strong gale yet only rare puffs moved the tree tops as we lounged near the bar to tunes delivered by two mature musicians.

When time comes to turn back to the south and home you become painfully aware of the prevalent south-west winds. Trying to wait this out till the next wind change led to other discoveries of secluded spots. One year coming back from a summer trip to Greenland, Labrador and Newfoundland we reached Canso.

Overlooking the easternmost peninsula of Nova Scotia the village was once thronged with fisher folk, mostly Basque, loading on cod. Centuries of vanishing fish stocks changed the town into a backwater, and the fisheries are now limited to lobster trapping in a short open season.

Spectacular fog banks rise over Cranberry Islands near Canso at the easternmost tip of Nova Scotia

We spent some time in Glasgow Harbour on the south side of Canso Peninsula, entertained by noisy seals that hauled out on a rocky reef nearby. With the dinghy roped to the end of a park boardwalk, we landed by a meadow filled with pitcher plants thriving on a mosquito diet and an easy trail continued to Canso town.

Once the south-west wind dropped to 15 knots we followed the buoys of Andrew Passage, a mere ribbon of deeper water winding through rocks towards the open coast. Beating southward in these moderate conditions should have been no problem.

But out there, away from the lee of the islands, the seas were stirred up wild. Short, steep, vicious. The bow would dig in and then had no time to rise before the next wave rolled right over it. Steering off wind to gain more speed didn’t help – on top of the underlying south-eastern swell the fresh wind created waves from south and south-west, seemingly from all over, and they were winning.

In three unpleasant hours we made about 7 miles. Abeam opened a gap in the coast with Port Howe at the end. An S-shaped course led in; serious breakers boiled white over shoals. The bay was uninhabited: one mildewed house was leaning ready to topple, its windows gaping hollow.

Behind a spur of rocks, out of sight, stood a wooden cabin, probably only rarely used. Above our boat at anchor, on a giant basket of twigs, an osprey peeped at high pitch. Its mate wheeled down from the clouds and joined – there must have been chicks in the nest.

Dinghy cruising through the north-east arm of the bay, to the rapids of a tawny stream, we tracked a weasel foraging in and out of water. Nancy joined him, looking for mussels and periwinkles between seaweeds. A massive bald eagle followed our progress, flitting between treetops.

Nova Scotia is a quite unique cruising ground combining access to urban locations with easy escapes to wilderness and nature. Its jagged coastline could make a lifetime of cruising.

About the author

After a lifetime as yacht skipper for pay, Tom Zydler and his wife, Nancy, now sail the northern waters of the Western Atlantic in their Mason 44, Frances B.

The post Sailing Nova Scotia: Jagged coastline makes for a unique cruising experience appeared first on Yachting World.

Source Birkin bag for sale Authentic Luxury Hermès Bag at www.crocodilesbag.com

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[alittleinn]

Your Ultimate Guide for Select the Best Hotels in Orleans

Whether you're planning a relaxing beach vacation, a romantic getaway, or a family adventure, Orleans has something for everyone. To make your stay even more memorable, we've curated a list of the best hotels in Orleans, MA. From luxurious resorts to cozy inns, this guide will help you find the perfect accommodation for your trip.

1. The Cove Motel

Located right on the waterfront, The Cove Motel offers stunning views of the Orleans Town Cove. This family-friendly motel features comfortable rooms equipped with modern amenities, including free Wi-Fi, flat-screen TVs, and mini-fridges. Guests can enjoy the outdoor pool, picnic areas, and complimentary breakfast. The motel’s central location makes it easy to explore nearby attractions like Nauset Beach and the Orleans Historical Society Museum.

2. Ridgewood Motel and Cottages

For a more rustic and homely experience, Ridgewood Motel and Cottages is an excellent choice. Set on beautifully landscaped grounds, this property offers a variety of accommodations, from cozy rooms to spacious cottages. Each unit is uniquely decorated and comes with all the essentials for a comfortable stay. The motel is conveniently located near Skaket Beach, making it a perfect spot for beach lovers.

3. Olde Tavern Motel & Inn

Steeped in history, the Olde Tavern Motel & Inn provides a unique blend of colonial charm and modern comfort. The inn features 30 rooms, each decorated with antique furnishings and equipped with contemporary amenities. Guests can relax in the outdoor pool, enjoy a continental breakfast, and explore the nearby Cape Cod Rail Trail. The inn’s central location in Orleans makes it a great base for exploring the town’s shops, restaurants, and galleries.

4. Seashore Park Inn

If you’re looking for a family-friendly option, Seashore Park Inn is a top choice. This motel offers a range of accommodations, including standard rooms, family suites, and efficiency units with kitchenettes. Guests can enjoy the indoor and outdoor pools, game room, and complimentary continental breakfast. The motel is just a short drive from popular attractions like the Cape Cod National Seashore and the Orleans Bowling Center.

5. Skaket Beach Motel

Just a mile from Skaket Beach, this motel is perfect for those who want to be close to the sand and surf. Skaket Beach Motel offers spacious rooms with kitchenettes, making it a great choice for longer stays or travelers who prefer to cook their own meals. The motel features an outdoor pool, barbecue grills, and picnic areas, providing plenty of opportunities for outdoor fun. Its convenient location also makes it easy to explore other parts of Cape Cod.

6. A Little Inn on Pleasant Bay

For a more intimate and luxurious experience, A Little Inn on Pleasant Bay is an ideal choice. This charming bed and breakfast is situated on the shores of Pleasant Bay, offering breathtaking views and a tranquil atmosphere. Each room is elegantly decorated and features high-end amenities, including private bathrooms, plush bedding, and complimentary Wi-Fi. Guests can enjoy a gourmet breakfast on the terrace, take a dip in the outdoor pool, or explore the inn’s beautiful gardens. The inn’s location between Orleans and Chatham makes it a perfect base for exploring both towns.

7. Nauset Knoll Motor Lodge

For those who prefer a more traditional and affordable option, Nauset Knoll Motor Lodge is a great pick. Located within the Cape Cod National Seashore, this lodge offers stunning views of Nauset Beach. The rooms are simple but comfortable, equipped with basic amenities like cable TV and mini-fridges. The lodge’s prime location allows guests to enjoy easy access to the beach, hiking trails, and other outdoor activities.

Tips for Choosing the Best Hotel in Orleans, MA

When selecting the perfect hotel for your stay in Orleans, consider the following tips:

Location: Choose a best hotel that is conveniently located near that you plan to visit. If you’re a beach lover, opt for accommodations close to Skaket Beach or Nauset Beach. For those interested in history and culture, staying in the town center might be more suitable.

Amenities: Make sure the hotel offers the amenities you need for a comfortable stay. Whether it’s free Wi-Fi, a swimming pool, or a complimentary breakfast, having the right amenities can enhance your experience.

Reviews: Check online reviews from previous guests to get to know of the hotel’s quality and service. Websites like TripAdvisor and Yelp provide valuable insights into the pros and cons of each property.

Budget: Consider your budget when select a hotel. Orleans offers a range of accommodations, from budget-friendly motels to luxurious inns, ensuring there’s something for every budget.

End of Line Orleans, MA, is a delightful destination with a variety of accommodations to suit every traveler’s needs. Whether you’re looking for a luxurious retreat, a cozy bed and breakfast, or a family-friendly motel, this guide will help you find the perfect place to stay. With its stunning beaches, charming town center, and numerous attractions, Orleans promises a memorable Cape Cod getaway.

Click Now:

bed and breakfast chatham ma

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[careerarm2-blog]

October 4 - Drive from Newport to Chatham, Cape Cod

Another beautiful, sunny day!!! It rolls 2 hours to drive from Newport to Chatham, Cape Cod.

Cape Cod is an island linked to the mainland by a bridge. Chatham is in the Mid Cape Area or basically in the middle . Cape Cod has many small towns, among the most famous is Hyannis where the Kennedys vacationed. There are mini-mansions and “regular” homes near the beach which I’m sure are worth in the millions.

Chatham is a small town, with a Main Street (Named Main Street) full of cute stores, boutiques, restaurants. Many houses were built in the mid-1800s for sea captains that lived in the area. And they are in really good shape!! There are many trees, flowers, etc. Also Cape Cod is well known for its fish and seafood, especially clams and lobster.

We are staying in a B&B that was built in 1850 but it has been added on by the various owners. It is close to town and it seems that everything is within walking distance.

Lunch was at the Chatham Squire a local tavern that has been around for 50 years. We had “lobster od “ or lobster overdose because it had a huge roll full of lobster meat, lobster bisque and chips. It was by far the best lobster roll but at $22 higher than the one at Rockland.

[maryweisbeckmv]

Carly and Harry …

That’s Carly Simon and Harry Connick, Jr of course

It all began with this little snippet in the Vineyard Gazette 27 years ago in September of 1990. My daughter Deb likes Harry Connick Jr and I’m a huge fan of Carly Simon, I have been even before I knew of her Vineyard connection. This seemed like a perfect weekend getaway for us but how could I manage to get tickets when I live in NJ and they were only on sale on the Vineyard !

I did it. I was determined and when it involves the Vineyard my determination is un-stoppable. So off we went. There were a few glitches along the way concerning MV accommodations and ferry reservations so we decided to stay in Falmouth on the mainland and just go to the Vineyard for the day of the concert.

It was a spectacular September Sunday afternoon on the Vineyard, the Campground was filled with happy concertgoers bustling around.

Before the concert began we were talking with a woman sitting next to us who was going on and on about how excited she was to be seeing Carly Simon. She said she had chatted about it with her seat mate on the small plane she had flown over to MV on that afternoon. She told him she had no idea who Harry Connick, Jr was, but that she was mainly there to see Carly.

When Harry stepped onto the stage she gasped and said “oh my god, that’s the young man I was talking to on the plane.”

At 3pm the concert began. Harry’s band was fantastic and Harry’s voice velvety smooth.

After about an hour or so of great music the lights were turned off. The only illumination was the sun shining through the stained glass windows around the perimeter of the Tabernacle !! And out stepped…..

Carly

I was beside myself. In actuality though the person beside me was Carly’s mother!! I have seen Carly in concert several times since then but seeing her on the Vineyard and at the Tabernacle was something really special for me.

Harry and Carly sang a few songs together, their voices meshed beautifully. Carly did a few songs alone and then way too soon it was over. What a fantastic day, one we’ll never forget.

The reviews of the concert were glowing, much like the talents of Carly Simon and Harry Connick Jr. as they stood side by side on the stage of the Tabernacle.

After the concert we had ‘drinks’ with the band at the Oyster Bar in Oak Bluffs… us and about 100 other people and then we headed to Edgartown for dinner.

Too quickly our lovely day on the Vineyard was coming to an end. We drove back to Oak Bluffs for one last look at the now darkened Tabernacle. We had booked a late ferry and it’s one of the few times I’ve sailed at night. The sky was star filled, a cool breeze was blowing and a young man on board was strumming his guitar and singing softly. Perfect day.

I’ve seen Carly 6 or 7 times but this was the first time and there couldn’t have been a more perfect place.

❤

(sorry for the graininess of some of the pictures, they are copies of the originals)

Mary I. Weisbeck Martha’s Vineyard via MV Obsession http://ift.tt/2xxGzrF

Mary Weisbeck Tisbury http://ift.tt/2f4WaaH

[momscookingthebooks]

Release Blitz ~ Excerpt ~ Giveaway

Title: Bayside Desires

Series: Bayside Summers #1

Author: Melissa Foster

Genre: Steamy Contemporary Romance

Release: May 9, 2017

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32595084-bayside-desires

Blurb:

Fall in love at Bayside, where sandy beaches, good friends, and true love come together in the sweet small towns of Cape Cod.

BAYSIDE SUMMERS is a series of standalone steamy romance novels featuring alpha male heroes and sexy, empowered women. They're fun, flirty, flawed, deeply emotional, always passionate, and easy to relate to.

"​With her wonderful characters and resonating emotions, Melissa Foster is a must-read author!" -NYT Bestseller Julie Kenner​

"Melissa Foster is synonymous with sexy, swoony, heartfelt romance!" -NYT Bestseller Lauren Blakely​

In Bayside Desires...

As the co-owner of Bayside Resorts, Rick Savage has a fabulous job working with his best friends and brother, and a thriving business in Washington, DC, which he’ll be returning to at the end of the summer. Spending time with his family is great, but being back on Cape Cod has unearthed painful memories. When sweet, smart, and overly cautious Desiree Cleary moves in next door, Rick is drawn to the sexy preschool teacher, and she just might prove to be the perfect distraction.

Running an art gallery was not in preschool teacher Desiree Cleary’s plans, but after being tricked into coming to her impetuous, unreliable mother’s aid, she’s stuck spending the summer with the badass half-sister she barely knows and a misbehaving dog. If that’s not frustrating enough, she can’t escape the sparks igniting with her strikingly handsome and pushy neighbor, Rick, who makes all her warning bells go off.

Passion ignites as Desiree and Rick spend long summer nights sharing heartfelt confessions and steamy kisses. For the first time in years Rick is enjoying life again instead of hiding behind mounds of work miles away from his family. Desiree has touched him in a way that makes him want to slow down. Only slowing down means dealing with his demons, and he isn’t sure who he’ll be when he comes out the other side.

All Bayside books can be read as standalone novels or as part of the series:

Coming Soon...

Bayside Passions

Bayside Heat

Bayside Escape

Bayside Summers is part of the Love in Bloom romance collection by New York Times & USA Today bestselling and award-winning author Melissa Foster. While each book may be read as a standalone, you might enjoy reading the entire Love in Bloom series. Characters from each sub-series appear in future books. Visit Melissa's website for family trees, series checklists, and more.

​​​Buy it now links

KINDLE: http://smarturl.it/BD_Kindle

KOBO: http://smarturl.it/BD_Kobo

NOOK:  http://bit.ly/2gH9ekr

GPLAY:  http://bit.ly/2kr3evD

iBOOKS:  http://apple.co/2k7T1Ii

PAPERBACK: http://smarturl.it/BD_Paperback

Author Bio -

Melissa Foster is a New York Times & USA Today bestselling and award-winning author. She writes sexy and heartwarming contemporary romance, new adult romance (M/F, M/M, F/F), romantic suspense, thrillers, and historical fiction with emotionally compelling characters that stay with you long after you turn the last page. Melissa's emotional journeys are lovingly erotic and always family oriented. Her books have been recommended by USA Today's book blog, Hagerstown Magazine, The Patriot, and several other print venues. She is the founder of the World Literary Café. When she's not writing, Melissa helps authors navigate the publishing industry through her author training programs on Fostering Success.

Melissa has painted and donated several murals to The Hospital for Sick Children in Washington, DC. Her interests include her family, reading, writing, painting, friends, helping others see the positive side of life, and visiting Cape Cod.

Melissa is available to chat with book clubs and welcomes comments and emails from her readers. Visit Melissa on Facebook or her personal website.

Never miss a brand new release, special promotions or inside gossip again by simply signing up to receive your newsletter from Melissa.

Social Media Links -

NEWSLETTER - http://www.melissafoster.com/newsletter

FACEBOOK - https://www.facebook.com/MelissaFosterAuthor

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WEBSITE - http://www.MelissaFoster.com

FAN CLUB/STREET TEAM - http://www.facebook.com/groups/melissafosterfans

GOODREADS - https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3023973.Melissa_Foster

AMAZON - https://www.amazon.com/Melissa-Foster/e/B002LTT7U2

PINTEREST - https://www.pinterest.com/thinkhappygirl/

GOOGLE PLUS - https://plus.google.com/u/0/b/108038864557679954956/108038864557679954956

INSTAGRAM - https://www.instagram.com/melissafoster_author

FREE BOOKS - www.MelissaFoster.com/LIBFREE

Excerpt

Oh shit. Rick Savage beached his craft, threw his life vest onto the sand, and ran after the woman he’d soaked. He’d been so captivated by the curvaceous blonde that when she’d started to leave, his first instinct had been to stop her. He’d clearly lost his mind. He knew better than to come that close to the jetty or to fishtail near people.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, jogging over as she stepped off the rocks and onto the beach.

She turned, mouth gaping, strands of wet hair stuck to her cheeks, forehead, and shoulders. The most beautiful green eyes stared back at him in shock and horror. He felt like a total ass.

“I’m sorry. I saw you watching me, and—” There was absolutely no excuse for what he’d done, so he went with the truth, no matter how bad it sounded. “I wanted to meet you before you took off.”

“I wasn’t watching you.” Her eyes darted around them, as if someone else might hear her lying.

He cocked a brow.

“Okay, maybe I was for a second. But you were stalking me.” She swiped at her sundress, which clung to her incredibly sexy body like a second skin.

He tried not to leer, but damn…

Forcing his eyes up, he said, “I wasn’t stalking you—”

Her deadpan stare stopped him from telling his own lie.

“Okay, fine,” he said with a laugh. “I was. You caught me. I’m sorry.”

“Does this usually work for you? Drenching unsuspecting women?” she said with a hint of annoyance, and a smile, as she shook the water from her arms. “Not that I’m an expert on being hit on, but it doesn’t seem like the best way to go about it.”

“I’m sure you get hit on all the time, but this wasn’t planned. It was a stupid mistake. It’s actually illegal to go that fast near the jetty, so you can have me arrested if you’d like. I wasn’t thinking. I was—”

She arched a brow, a slight smirk playing across her beautiful face as she tossed his mannerism right back at him.

He felt himself smiling. Man, this woman was as sweet as she was spunky. “What can I say? If you weren’t so hot…”

“So, it’s my fault?” She rolled her eyes. “You really do kind of suck at picking up women.”

The caveman in him grunted, and he squared his shoulders. “I don’t suck at it. I’m actually really good at it. A pro. A master. A champion.”

She laughed. “Sorry, but…” She waved at her wet clothes. “Evidence proves otherwise.”

And I’m about to prove that evidence wrong. “Let me buy you a sweatshirt and something warm to drink at Mac’s so you don’t freeze.” Mac’s was a walk-up restaurant by the Wellfleet Pier, a five-minute drive by car. Less by Jet Ski.

Her eyes rolled over his face, as if she were considering it. He’d never had anything close to a poker face, which meant she saw his remorse and his attraction. At six two, two thirty, he was a big dude, and he kept in prime shape with running and water sports. He was used to women ogling him and practically doing cartwheels to get his attention. She drew in a deep breath, her eyes dropping to his bare chest, and she bit her plump lower lip. “Sexy” didn’t begin to describe the dichotomy of sweet and sultry this woman possessed. But she wasn’t doing cartwheels. In fact, those hungry eyes shifted away from him.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I was getting ready to leave anyway.”

She was blowing him off? There was no way he was letting her leave without doing something to make up for this debacle. Okay, maybe he also wanted to strip away those wet clothes and warm her up. But that was beside the point.

“Are you staying at a cottage on the beach? I can give you a ride on my Jet Ski.”

“As tempting as that sounds, since I’ve never been on one, I have my car.” She pointed to the parking lot with the hand that held her phone, and her smile faded. “Oh, shoot. My phone got wet.”

“I can take care of that.” He took it from her and wiped it on his shorts. She watched his hands, his biceps, his pecs, his shorts, with laser focus. His fish wasn’t off the line yet. “It should be okay now. Want me to put my number in your contacts? In case you change your mind about that drink?”

That brought a curious smile. He noticed the cutest dimple beside her mouth when she smiled. “Does that usually work?”

“No idea. I haven’t had to use that line before.”

He stepped closer, unable to resist brushing a lock of hair that was stuck to her cheek away from her face so he could see her better. Their eyes connected, and the temperature spiked. She must have felt it, too, because she was licking her lips like a hungry tigress. In the next breath, her eyes darted nervously around the beach. Christ, now she looked sweet and innocent. How did she do that in the blink of an eye? Rick was only at the Cape for a few more weeks, working on renovations at the resort before returning to his real life, and design-build business, in Washington, DC. The thoughts running through his mind were not sweet and innocent. He should let his apology ride, get on his Jet Ski, and drive away. But she had his rapt attention, and he was unable to walk away.

“You don’t have to use my number,” he said. “But you never know. Maybe when you’re lying in bed tonight, unable to stop thinking about me, you’ll wish you had it.”

Her cheeks flushed, and those sparkling green eyes moved over his face and down his chest again, lingering long enough to send a stroke of heat to his core.

“Why not?” she said, surprising the hell out of him. “Go ahead and put your number in my phone…?”

“Rick.” He entered his contact information and handed it back, curling his fingers over hers and holding them for a beat.

Her eyes flicked up, dark and alluring. “I’m Desiree,” she said a little breathlessly.

Oh yeah, you feel it, too.

Giveaway: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/81aa78941300

[nomaterra]

New Post has been published on Nomaterra's Journal - Travel through Scent

New Post has been published on http://blog.nomaterra.com/blog-split/travel-blog-split/ultimate-weekend-guide-miami/

The Ultimate Weekend Guide to Miami

Miami is famous as a destination for all kinds of tourists. But most of the time, visitors flock to the most popular tourist spots, not knowing that there are other epic places and activities which can make a trip to The Magic City even more magical.

Here’s a guide for a weekend escape to Miami without the typical tourist mindset.

Venture to a secret beach

Miami’s beaches are often divided into two: South Beach (SoBe) and the rest. SoBe is known the world over, but consequently, it has become overrun with tourists. For a more quiet retreat, pick a less known but equally majestic stretch of sea and sand.

For instance, there’s Haulover Beach Park accessible via Collins Ave. which, according to an article by Pure Wow, is one of the most private beaches in town.” It’s split into two sections: regular and ‘clothing-optional’. Either way, you have your own private space with Biscayne Bay in view on one side, and the mighty Atlantic on the other.

Another relatively secluded getaway is Matheson Hammock Park near Cutler Road in Coral Gables. It overlooks Biscayne Bay and is surrounded by tropical botanic gardens. As you enjoy moments of serenity, you’re treated with sceneries of lush greenery and calm waters. True to its name, you could imagine setting up a hammock here and just watching the rest of the world fly by quietly.

Other choices include Oleta River State Park in North Miami Beach, Bill Baggs Cape Florida State Park in Key Biscayne, and SoBe’s neighbor, North Shore Open Space Park which is also in Miami Beach.

Indulge in lavish dining choices

Considering the touristy nature of Miami, a smorgasbord of restaurants have sprouted up across the entire area to satisfy different cravings, catering to many different cultures. But for haute dining choices, some of the premiere names are in Downtown.

DB Bistro Moderne and Zuma Miami are reportedly some of the hottest places to dine in Downtown, according to a blog post from Discover Homes. DB Bistro Moderne caters to people with a taste for French cuisine with classics like Escargots Persillade and Coq au vin; while Zuma Miami is a Japanese restaurant, which specializes in Grilled Skirt Steak and Black Cod with Miso Sauce.

Pick and prepare food DIY-style

Fancy picking your own ingredients for a fresh bowl of salad? How about strawberries for a strawberry shake? There are locations in Miami called ‘U-Pick Farms’ that welcome tourists to experience orchard living such as Burr’s Berry Farm and Sam and Philly’s. Enjoying freshly plucked crisps or fruits, while admiring the countryside ambience, is an epic way to spend a weekend in Miami, not dissimilar to a tranquil vacation in the vineyards of France.

However it’s always worth nothing that the majority of U-Pick Farms in Miami are only open from November to May. Pickyourown.org specifies this as a harvest period for the produce grown in the region.

Chill in rooftop bars

Unlike many of Miami’s clubs that blast out loud music and host masses of partygoers all night long, there are rooftop bars, which are perfect for guests that need some time to chill out and relax. Baby Jane at Brickell, for one, gives off an atypical bar vibe through its bungalow-chic design. Then there’s 1306 in Downtown, with velvet interiors and leather furniture – the place oozes class and style. The cocktails and food menu are equally impressive, with the former’s kitchen being headed by the reputable hometown chef Michael Beltran who preps specialties like Grilled Oysters and Smoked Salmon Sliders. However, make sure to dress up, as these establishments aren’t your usual casual run-of-the-mill bars.

Become a ‘turista a la Cubana’

There’s a neighborhood located west of Downtown Miami known as Little Havana, which took its name from the capital of Cuba. It gives you a taste of Cuban culture without actually crossing the Straits of Florida.

But aside from touring the popular Calle Ocho, you can head to Flagler Dog Track – a famous hangout for the region’s affluent population. The establishment, which traces its roots back to the 1930s, has greyhound racing, poker tournaments as well as pari-mutuels.

Explore the artsy side of the city

Miami is known for its vibrancy and this is reflected in the city’s art scene. Though there are museums that showcase the best local and international works, you can take a more private art appreciation session by walking along locations such as Wynwood Walls that’s lined with the best graffiti works that Miami has to offer.

Art Deco structures in Miami also reach the hundreds. Whilst options for Art Deco Tours are available, go the unconventional way by plotting your own itinerary. Destinations like The Plymouth Hotel are perfect additions to your art adventure. Better yet, you can rent Art Deco properties while you’re in Miami like in this post by Miami Curbed. No Art Deco hotel can ever replicate the experience of staying in a fully-furnished, multi-bedroom and T&B, 1930’s inspired home.

Go yachting

In terms of opulent activities, yachting ranks pretty high up the list. There’s a startup based in Miami, however, which gives you the chance to go sailing aboard the city’s luxury yachts and you don’t have to own one to be able to join the club.

Miami Herald relayed the YachtLife concept, which lists the local luxury yacht inventories into a centralized database. Its app allows users to check out yacht photos, specs and pricing as well as book them for a cruise on the spot.

These are all awesome alternative adventures in Miami besides visiting the common tourist spots and hangouts. Now that you have more reasons to explore The Magic City, all that’s left is to take that suitcase out of your closet and start packing. To help you out on the last part, check out our previous post about Travel Essentials for Your Weekend Getaway.

What will you be adding to your ultimate weekend guide to Miami? 

[compohapm]

Love

This section is dedicated to the few who still hold a piece of my heart. With each person I've conjured a memory, so that I may always remember how it feels to love and be loved. Katie K:        First love is true and beautiful. When that person takes the first steps into the undisturbed snowfield of your heart the prints they leave behind are deep and unmarred by time or circumstance. Such is how it is with Katie. We were young, so young, when we met in the forests of Paradise Park to perform in Orpheus and Eurydice. So many of my memories with Katie are caught up in the theater, as we both were avid actors in our time.        There were horror movies together on her parents couch, just two kids sharing a hawaiian pizza with black olives and the occasional quick kiss. There were long nights burning minutes on a Nokia track phone. It takes awhile to learn to be sincere and romantic when using the dial pad to text your love. Youthful love leads to many silly things said when looking back in hindsight: “I would walk through flames for you.” or something to that effect comes to mind.

      The memory I'm thinking of breaks the rules of this compendium, which is fine because I'm the author of this story here: This isn't a particularly happy memory, nor is it particularly sad; what it is is the first goodbye I made to someone I love. My last day of High School was a whirlwind of farewells, but for her I needed something special. We stood alone on the stage we had shared so many times before, and the silence of the room was palpable and the empty seats stared at us as we held each other.

      Her eyes welled with tears as she prepared for me to go and though I wanted to cry I could not because I was excited about my future, even if it meant saying goodbye for now. The thing about that love that still strikes me today is how I hadn't a fear at all of not spending the rest of my life with her. First love will do that to you: When you've let someone into your heart so deeply you cannot think of wrenching them out.

      As we were sharing our parting words I remember the distinct bang of a door in the theater opening. It was a custodian coming to sweep the stage and when he saw us he let us continue to be alone and I always thought that was considerate of him. Before we ended I knew my exit well. There was a door backstage left that opened to outdoors behind the school. Anyone who knows me well enough knows that I lived and breathed acting in my four years at Windsor High School and so I thought it was fitting that I would be quite literally exiting stage left.

        When I think on this memory, I see her cool blue-gray eyes and feel the coolness of her small hands in mine. I can see the loveliness of her high cheeks and her ears, which I've always loved for their shape, and her thin pursed lips. When we'd kiss it wasn't so much passionate as gentle—more compassionate than anything else. When I think of truly innocent and pure love, she is what I think of. Sarah S:          Sarah was my first friend at Bennington College and even before we arrived I had already messaged her after seeing her name in a Facebook group for Bennington class of 2013. We shared our excitement, though I believe I was a bit more excited due to the fact I had never left Windsor, VT at that point in my life. The first time I saw her in person was at the Student Center on Campus the very first day I arrived for orientation. She was with her roommate Montana, a bubbly girl with striking red hair, and they were getting snacks or something to take back to their dorm which was on the other side of Bennington's small campus from my own dorm. I think that night I went to their room and got stoned and then got lost on my way back to my dorm that night.        Sarah is shortish, and she had long brunette hair and the subtlest freckles flecking her nose and cheeks around her coastal blue eyes. We had in common one crucial detail to our friendship: We both came to Bennington with significant others waiting for us back home. This lead me to feel secure in becoming inseparable from Sarah for my first year and a half at school. When I say inseparable, I mean just that: We did everything together, went everywhere together, ate dinner together, did laundry together, signed up for classes together, even lived together at one point as roommates. That time spent with her as my best friend are precious to me still and I smile often when I think of the hell we raised together.        The memory I'm thinking of didn't take place in Bennington. Instead, it takes place in Provincetown, Massachusetts. I was visiting Sarah over the summer after our Freshmen year. We both had the same sense that summer that Bennington felt like a distant dream and that we missed each other after growing so close. She lived on Cape Cod and invited me to stay for a weekend. With each mile drawing me closer to her, I smiled foolishly to myself on the long bus ride to the Cape.        We did many things that trip. Fishing with her father, driving to the beach, and eating what is still in my mind the best burrito I've ever had from the Cornerstore in Chatham. This trip must have been in July because it was near her birthday. Both of us at this time being avid pot smoking college kids, I had brought some edibles with me as a birthday present. We decided to take them before we went to Provincetown for dinner.         P-Town is wonderful place with lots of shops and restaurants, great views of the ocean, and lots of gay pride. As we walked together on the cobblestone street we were bemoaning the lack of potency of the edibles I'd brought. We were hoping to have them kick in before dinner, but with that seemingly out of the question we stopped at a restaurant called Bayside Betty's. As we stood and waited to be sat at a table, the edibles kicked in. They kicked in hard. Potency was not a problem.         Seated at the table we were all smiles and giggles. I felt like everyone was staring at these two crazy college kids clearly a breeze away from hysterical laughter. My body was warm and tingly and I could feel a hazy heaviness on my eyes. That dinner is, to this day, one of the best meals I've ever had. It wasn't necessarily the food because I can't remember anything we ate past the appetizer, which was escargot and I thought that eating snails was hilarious because at that moment everything was hilarious, but the meal was great because of the situation and the company. She looked lovely in the candlelight of the table. This girl sitting across the table gets me. We're so damn good together. I wish we were together, I thought. I wish.         After a nice gay couple sat at the table next to us and chatted us up for a bit (they must have known we were blitzed) about the man at the table behind us who looked like a modern day gay Lincoln (he did), we finally went over the edge and were cackling like hyenas. We had to leave and we knew it. When we paid and got up to leave I tripped over a wood carving of a goose and nearly hit the floor. I can still see her wide-eyed expression as she suppressed a laugh and started to leave ahead of me. Outside in the cold sea air of the night we hugged and walked back to her car, laughing all-the-while.        Six years later, I still smile when I think about it. Breya L:        There have been countless stories written about the one who got away. If I were to be Gatsby, I think that Breya will forever be my Daisy. She was my first serious and adult relationship. She had the most adorable heart-shaped face—everything about her was adorable to me. Her voice, her mannerisms, her dainty body, and her wide smile. She was always energetic, like lightning in a bottle, and when she talked of her dreams I believed she would achieve them based on her attitude and skill. I met her in the ceramics shop at Bennington, clay in my beard and on my clothes as I wrestled with a four inch pot destined to become an ashtray. I was amazed to watch her form these huge yet delicate pots as she was up to her elbows in wet white porcelain.         There are almost too many happy memories to think of with her. In our time we traveled from Vermont, to Maine, to a happy little island, to the big happy island of Hawaii, and back. Even subtle memories come bubbling to the surface when I close my eyes, something along the lines of watching “Vikings” or “Marble Hornets”--a silly mystery thriller series on Youtube that we both got caught up in. The memory I'm thinking of makes me smile because of just how aloof I was.         I was visiting her over the summer at her mother's house on Cliff Island, Maine. I watched the tiny island grow closer as the ferry I took from Portland inched forwards. I knew that I would have a little time to kill before I could see her, as she was working at the Cliff Island Historical Society and would have to come meet me from there. When the ferry landed I realized I was hungry. I found a little shop close to the dock and headed there to get a bite to eat. I saw on the menu “Maine Lobster Rolls” and thought, hell, when in Rome. I devoured the entire thing in a couple minutes as I waited a little impatiently for my love to come into view.

       Not much later I saw her, and she saw me. She was somewhere between a skip and a run as she moved towards me, brilliantly radiating her wide smile to me. I picked her up in a huge embrace and swung her 'round in a circle before setting her back on her feet again. She asked how I was, how was the ferry, and if I had to wait long. I told her I was better now that I was with her and had some food in my belly.

      But when I told her about my delicious lobster roll I had polished off just moments before, her face changed. The smile didn't completely disappear but became withdrawn and anxious. She may have made an audible “Oh.” or something, but didn't at once tell me what had caused this sudden change. As my brain was firing on all cylinders trying to solve this riddle, a random nueron fired off and hit the target true: Along with being lactose intolerant, Breya was allergic to shellfish—that includes the lobster meat stuck in the crags of my teeth. I definitely made an audible “Oh shit” at this realization, followed by effusive apologies and cursing my own stupidity.

       Not one to have a happy moment ruined, she shrugged it off with a laugh and told me it was okay, but that I wouldn't get to kiss her until I brushed my teeth at her house. I was devastated. Sure, I wanted to kiss her before, but now that I couldn't I was utterly defeated. As she was able to do on countless occasions, she clasped her hand in mine and pulled me and my sullenness along to her house, lifting my spirits with every step and every word. That was the power she had: She always made me happy, even when I didn't want to be.

      As I'm writing this, she's done it again. Kerry B:       She came out of nowhere. One day she appeared in my life, and I remember saying her name to myself as I texted her one night. “Kerry B____. Wow.” She had been a friend of my good friend Jake while they were in college. They were R.A.'s together and had remained close after school had ended, despite her living in Wareham, Massachusetts. I forget the occasion but the first night I met her she was wearing a blue dress. I remember thinking how pretty she was. I didn't talk to her too much that night, but we exchanged social media information and in time we grew closer. I was, and am, amazed by her intelligence. She has read so many books, watched so many documentaries, and yet didn't act like a know-it-all like I would, and do.        Her hair was in constant flow and I loved to watch her change the colors. Brown with pink, full fuschia, magenta, blue, teal, and at one point she was blonde, but that was before I met her. I liked her nose. It was rounded at the tip, the same roundness mirrored in her cheeks, and when she smiled sometimes she'd keep her mouth closed and close her eyes and I thought that was just the bee's knees. It cannot go without saying either that she had fantastic taste in dresses, and I particularly loved the Starry Night dress.

     Soon she moved to Windsor to be closer to Jake, move away from home, and I think at least partially to be closer to me. A few months went by and we started living together. I was living with my mother and desperately looking for an affordable apartment. After my main option fell through, she quite generously offered to have me move in with her. Sure, her apartment was small and she had a lot of things, but we would make it work. She was determined to make us fit. She is to this day the only person I've loved and lived with full time. I used to love to watch her sew. It was amazing to watch her operate her fairly successful Etsy store, making bags of all sizes and selling them all over. She could sit and sew and watch documentaries on WWII all day, and I would love to sit behind her on the couch while she worked, me playing video games at the end of a long day and her still working steadily.

      The memory I'm thinking of took place at a little karaoke bar/Chinese place. We were there with her friends for a few drinks and to hear some bad karaoke. This was still early in our relationship so I was nervous as hell around her. I held her hand under the table and attempted to make conversation with everyone at the table, but it was hard given the guy screaming his way through Megadeth's “Peace Sells...But Whose Buying?” At some point her friend suggested we dance, and me being a few drinks in and not shy at all agreed. I could sense Kerry's hesitation, but she relented and joined us. We danced silly and like no one was watching and it was fun. It was so fun. Her friend pulled me aside later and told me that since I got her to dance in front of strangers that she must really like me.

      Before we even got to the car to go home she was yelling that she wanted to listen to Tom Petty. I learned pretty quickly that after three Budweisers (Her beer of choice, bottle only) that she goes from being fairly reserved to being loud and rambunctious. When we got in the car and the Tom Petty started playing she sang along to all the words. I loved to hear her sing, and I never told her that and I should have, but watching her eyes closed and head thrown back as she sang “Don't do me like that!” made my heart flutter wildly. She was beautiful in that moment, and every moment after.

Elizabeth O:

      If love was ever in a cup of tea, it was in Lizzy's Earl Grey. She herself was as soothing and restorative as that hot afternoon tea. She and I met in the summer I worked at Ohana Family Camp in Fairlee. She came from Scotland, was a photographer and boating instructor, and potentially the biggest Disney fan I'd ever met. Our time was altogether too short, but still brings me great happiness to remember.

      She had long perfumed brown hair that I used to like to see tucked behind her smallish ears. Her chestnut eyes shined brightly on those sunny days by the lake, and she always looked too cool wearing her sunglasses standing on a boat. Her voice was soft and lightly infused with her Scottish accent, and I could talk with her for hours about nothing and be happy for it. We did little things for each other that meant so much. As I mentioned previously, seeing her in the afternoon and her asking if I wanted a cup of tea was something I always looked forward to. In the handful of times I left camp with a few friends to get pizza and beer at Ramunto's, I'd always remember to bring her back a dessert—Red velvet cake, if they had it. She never asked me too, but I felt compelled to because I even away from her she was still on my mind.

      The memory I'm thinking of was of our first date. I had the feeling (and some small bit of intel) that she might be interested in me and I felt emboldened enough to ask her if she'd like to accompany me to the waterfront on our next day off for a picnic. I loved watching her smile as she said yes, and I could have floated away carried off by nothing but the butterflies in my stomach. I asked around until I could borrow a picnic basket from someone and went straight to work with planning.

     Wine, chocolates, fruit, cheese, chicken salads, and a blanket to sprawl on were all packed away and ready, and after a bit of chiding from my friends watching me pack I set off to meet her. When we got to the waterfront we looked for some shady and secluded spot near the shore. We ended up climbing over, near hiking through, thistles and weeds and branches until we found a lovely flat spot for our picnic. I remember thinking that a lesser person would have complained about the difficulty of finding a spot for what was supposed to be our relaxing picnic, but she remained content and was a perfect companion.

     We talked politics for awhile, I asked about Scotland and she about Vermont. We both enjoyed traveling and I listened to her stories as I we sipped a bold red wine that in hindsight should have been reserved for a heavy dinner and replaced by a Rose or Pink Moscato. No matter, because nothing including the ants assailing the fruits we'd brought could ruin that moment or spoil our picnic.

     In every memory of her, whether star gazing, swimming, picnicking, or just watching Treasure Planet for the first time, I was always amazed at how effortless loving her was. She made it seem easy to be so good. There will always be a spot in my heart for those long summer nights that never seemed to end until they did. Natalie O:      Eat diamonds for breakfast and shine all day was what the picture on her wall said. And she did shine all day, every day. Her energy was only outweighed by her intelligence and savvy and I admired her greatly for her focus. Though she was very beautiful, with brownish-green hazel eyes and gorgeous auburn-brown hair, I found her determination even more attractive. She could go from carefree whimsy to professional and business like in an instant. She could kill me with a look, knock me over with a feather.

     I used to love to watch her make breakfast. She moved so much like a dancer, full of grace and poise with every little bounce. She'd sing when she cooked, too. Her mellifluous voice filling the morning air and lifting the mood with her dulcet tones. I loved to hear her sing in French, speak in French. Those morning breakfasts with her were worth well more than diamonds. She would often give me advise about things, including one critical piece I still live by: “You have to advocate for yourself because no one else will.” She taught me to know I have worth by literally writing on a whiteboard “Cody Has Worth Because __________” with probably twenty different examples. When I didn't have the will to eat after a long day, she was there waiting for me with something she made at home, or would make me something as simple as a sandwich that would be panacea to my aching bones. At a time when I felt lower than I'd ever been, she saved me with these things. I don't know that I've ever thanked her properly.

     The memory I'm thinking of was in a brook near where she lived at the time. She pulled the car over to the side of a windy dirt road and we got out with our towels in our hands. After climbing over an embankment and onto the large sun-warmed boulders that sprawled throughout the length of the brook, I watched her slip coolly into the clear rushing waters. We swam together, though I swear she made everything look more graceful than me, and even sat beneath a small waterfall. I loved the feeling of the cold water pounding against my head and neck, and with her beside me feeling the same. We were one with each other and the brook in that moment. There is my own piece of Rivendell.

     We pulled our soaking bodies from the brook to dry on some warm rocks. I could see her from a small distance and was reminded of the stories in Greek myths about men watching Nymphs bathing in cool waters from afar. Lots of things about her seemed mythical to me. The wings of Hermes tattooed on her heels made it easy to believe she was a no mortal, but a goddess from days of old.

     If there is magic, it can be found in her. Giovanna Z:

     I only had to introduce myself a few times before I could get my name to stick in her head, but I was happy when it did. I knew her name after the first introduction because I remember her sticking out to me wherever she was. In a room filled with people and noise the only thing I'd see is her. In the beginning, when I wanted nothing more than to talk to her, I found myself scared to approach her. She was too pretty, I was surely gonna make a fool of myself, particularly when I've only just gotten out of work and was still covered in food and kitchen grime.

     The contrast of her nearly black hair and luminous blue eyes made my knees weak. When she smiled her teeth were small and pointy, and I loved them and the way her smile made her eyes squint. When I finally worked up the courage to talk to her it was because she approached me, and I was amazed at how down-to-earth she was despite her fine appearance. She was drinking a Narragansett because it was cheap—I loved that. When I told her I was drinking Miller Lite, I noticed that was the next beer she got—I loved that, too. When I introduced her to my friends Dominick and Carrie, she took to them immediately too.

     No memory of Giovanna would be complete without including her steady companion Domo—a brindle English bulldog. I liked him very much, and when I'd see him his tail would wag so quickly it made his whole butt shake and I'd say, “You're crazy!” and he would go crazy. She loved animals, studied biology, and previously had worked for the parks department. Though she was from Rhode Island, I felt like she fit in well here in Vermont because of her relatively solitary nature and polite disposition. It's hard to think of just one memory considering there are many happy memories to choose from. When we visited her family in Rhode Island, we shot some big handguns, drove a golf cart like Mario Andretti, ate pizza past midnight watching “Forensic Files,” and even went to a hookah bar that was terribly overpriced. I loved the way she talked her way out of getting her car towed in a bank parking lot, and I really liked the long drive there and back with her.

      The memory I'm thinking of contains simultaneously the worst and best camping experience I've ever had. As summer was coming to a close, and colder nights approaching, I wanted to go camping with Giovanna as that was something that we both enjoyed doing and we could bring Domo, who also probably enjoys camping. I wanted everything to be perfect, especially considering the newness of or relationship and my own insecurities that come with that territory. I had thought that I'd been camping at this one campsite, Running Bear, as a kid—unfortunately I had mixed that up with Ascutney State Park down the road from Running Bear.

     With her car packed and loaded with tents, beer, and food, we arrived at Running Bear and pulled up to the main lodge. Inside we talked to the man behind the counter and explained to him we were looking to camp in a tent for the night. I seemed to shrug it off like it was no problem, and said it was going to $40. Now, I know that's pricey for a tent site, but I wanted this to be perfect and maybe this would be a really nice spot. He told us as we were leaving that there were water and electricity hook-ups at our tent site. Huh. The crossed muskets adorned with Confederate flags that hung above the entrance to the grounds should have clued us in to what we were getting ourselves into. As we drove through the grounds it became clear that this was not so much a campground as a trailer community or long term RV lots—this was evident by the gardens outside of some of the trailers as well as the large collections of ATV's, cars, and lawnmowers strewn about. Children were chasing clucking chickens in the twilight of the evening and as we parked at our tent site, which was oddly at the center of the grounds surrounded by campers, I felt like people were staring at us when we got out of the car.      I should mention that I don't believe that there is anything wrong with staying in trailer community. But all too suddenly we both realized that this was not the camping experience we were envisioning. When I asked Giovanna what she wanted to do, she was content and smiled. She was willing to camp here regardless of the situation. I always admired her willingness to stay there as a testament to her good nature. As I stared at the Giants game that the camper next to us was watching from the futon that faced his porch, I made the call that this was unacceptable. I knew a place we could go.

     A short drive down the road and we were at the entrance to Paradise Park. We needed to hurry because daylight was waning and we hastily pitched our tent in a large clearing by the fire pit. She was all smiles once camp was established, saying that this place was perfect with our tent being the only one around for miles and the beautiful view of the stars overhead in the clearing. This was what we were looking for. Just a small piece of land for two people and a big dog. That night I watched the light from the fire illuminate her the beauty of her face, and we talked for hours into the night. We drank cheap beers and ate fire-roasted hot dogs and sausages. It was so simple and so perfect.      Lying on the hard earth next to her with Domo wedged in there somewhere was soothing, and I slept peacefully.

[jjaywmac]

What’s in a Name?

My father was born Vito Anthony Orlandella, and he didn’t much care for his name. “Vito” was all right, and in fact, he named his principal business The Vito Fruit Company. No real problem with the benign Anthony, it was the last name he saw as problematic. His one foray into show business as a record producer was done under the name “Tony Vito”. I’m not certain, but I believe he thought that Orlandella was too long and clumsy for a billboard. He had another name ready but never got the chance to use it. A clever anagram made by dropping the first two and the last letters of his name. Thus was born “Vic Landell”. When it came time to name my ballplayer-turned-detective, the choice was an easy one. Call it a homage to my father.

1

Genesis

If you reside in Florida near the Ocean, you qualify as a resident of a “Coast.” If you live between Palm Beach and Miami, you are on the Gold Coast. Between Port St. Lucie and the Indian River? That would be the Treasure Coast. While the area around Cape Canaveral is, no surprise, the Space Coast. Over here on the Gulf of Mexico, we limit ourselves to just one. The stretch that runs from above Tarpon Springs all the way down to Naples is known as the Sun Coast. Now in the dead of a Florida winter, which means that the temperature has plummeted to a mere eighty degrees, I am constantly reminded of Sarah Miles’ languid portrayal of “Alice” in the film “White Mischief” and her line for the ages, “Oh, God, not another fucking beautiful day.”

As my Lotus Elise SC makes the left off Bee Ridge and merges into traffic on Interstate 75 Northbound, I am about an hour away from my destination. Here is your chance to “vet” me. I was born Victor Anthony Landell, on August 22, 1979, at the Massachusetts General Hospital. From day one, everybody called me “Vic.” My father Peter, “Pete,” was a Captain of Detectives for the Boston Police Department, and recently retired to Falmouth on Cape Cod. My mother Katherine, better known as “Kate,” was Chief Nurse at the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute right up until the day a cerebral hemorrhage took her life four years ago. Her death devastated my father. My older brother by eighteen months, Thomas, or “Tommie”, is a Commander in the Navy and living out my dream, flying fighter jets off a Nimitz-class carrier.

My IQ score says I should have been a great student, but my interest level begged to differ. I was more concerned with the Red Sox and girls, though not in that order. If you look across the Charles River from Storrow Drive you can see Harvard and M.I.T. “So near and yet so far.” Let’s just say I wasn’t ticketed for either, more likely some State college or, with luck, UMass.

I didn’t get to UMass, and for one good reason, my left arm. I played baseball in high school gifted with a decent fastball and not much else. During my junior year, a coach took me aside and said, “You have the longest fingers I have ever seen. Why aren’t you throwing curve balls?” Good question. So I worked and worked to develop what ballplayers call “the deuce.” Lo and behold, by senior year my curve and I were unhittable.

Then the phone started to ring, and suddenly, college coaches who a year before wouldn’t have given me the time of day were begging me to play for them. Being a Catholic, wanting my parents to see me play, and have the chance for a quality education, I chose Boston College.

The Society of Jesus expected me to do more than just pitch. Things like go to class, study, pass, and oh yeah, graduate – concepts that USC and Texas didn’t bother to mention. A major in history was coupled with a minor in philosophy. Philosophy? Once the Jesuits have you, they never let you go. Of course, neither discipline would get me a job since philosophers are always the last ones hired. Meanwhile, my hurling was coming along nicely, and after four years, I graduated – with honors.

Now, Boston College is no one’s idea of a baseball or for that matter a football factory. If you want a centerman or a lawyer, you look here. If you want a shortstop you look elsewhere. Most scouts couldn’t find Chestnut Hill with both hands and a map. Wonder of wonders, midway through my senior year, I was being scouted by the Pittsburgh Pirates. Miracle of miracles, they drafted me. OK, so it was in the 30th round, but I was in no position to quibble. My philosophy career would have to be postponed. Game called on account of the National Pastime.

Continuing up I-75, a town appears on our left. Not just any town, it is Bradenton aka Sarasota’s ugly stepsister. Bradenton has precisely two claims to fame. It is the home of Tropicana Orange Juice, and for six weeks every winter, the home of the Pirates. This is where it all began for me, February 2000, spring training with Pittsburgh. I arrived on the afternoon of the 15th – bringing with me a glove and a dream. When a Major League team drafts you in the 30th round, your signing bonus will just about pay for a baloney and cheese sandwich. I couldn’t care less. I was a Professional Baseball player.

In all, three summers would pass toiling in the Pirates minor league system. I started playing “A” ball in Lynchburg, Virginia; the year after “AA” in Altoona, Pennsylvania; and finally, “AAA” in Nashville. While down on the farm, I played with guys on the way up, some others on the way down, and a few on the way out – has-beens and never-wases, prospects and suspects. The Pirates told me I was a prospect. So I rode the buses, slept in team motels, ate a lot of fast food, and waited. In the spring of 2003, my time finally arrived.

With Bradenton in the rearview mirror, we now transition to the I-275. The high-strung Elise is loafing along in 6th gear at 80 mph and goading me on as the road bends right. Coming into view is our local “Jewel in the Crown,” the Sunshine Skyway Bridge, according to some expert the third greatest bridge in the world. It’s the gateway to St. Petersburg, the back way to Tampa.

At the end of spring training, I was called into the manager’s office. There would be no going back to Nashville, I had made the team and would go north with the Pirates. The word I was looking for was incredulous, because some way somehow, I was headed to “the show.”

The end of the Bridge is the start of St. Petersburg. A city of two hundred and fifty thousand, it sits across the bay from Tampa and faces the Gulf of Mexico. If you are poor, you live in Tampa. Rich? St. Pete.

Further up the 275, accompanied by the wind noise around my open car and the whine from the supercharger a foot behind my head, I decide to fight back. Up comes the volume on the Lotus’ CD player. A note about my music – I was educated by parents who explained to me that modern music sucked and rap is crap – ‘60s rock and roll is the only real music. Thus, the CD changer has everything from the Beatles covering “Ain’t She Sweet” to the Rivingtons and their immortal “Papa-Oom-Mow-Mow.” Then mix in a dash of Francis Albert Sinatra, and since this is Florida, a dollop of James William Buffett, and presto – music.

When we arrived in Pittsburgh, I was told that my starting days were over and I was now a short reliever. In the lexicon of Baseball, a left-handed “short reliever” is the guy who arrives in the 8th inning, with the game hanging in the balance, for the sole purpose of getting out the other team’s best left-handed hitter. So, I had a role to play.

That first year in a Major League clubhouse was an education. I learned the official language of Baseball – profanity. Players are quite skilled at using modifiers: “That frigin’ ball went so frigin’ far and so frigin’ high!” They also like adding the word “mother” for emphasis. The boys are also adept at coming up with phrases to describe particular situations. If a pitcher goes nine innings and allows two hits, a player might be apt to say he “stuck the bat up your butt.” Conversely, if a reliever comes in, faces four batters, gives up four hits and allows four runs to score, he has just “shit all over the place.” Then there are the ladies. What to a rock guitarist is a groupie, to an outfielder is an Annie. Baseball Annies, like groupies, come in various sizes and shapes, some rather good, some with lots of “personality.” They have one thing – all right, two things in common. They want to meet a ballplayer, and they know the exact location of every team’s road hotel. Some players will always choose quality over quantity, but for others, “a ten o’clock two is a two o’clock ten.” And, of course, there are the bird-watchers, those drawn to the mating call of the double-breasted mattress thrasher.

The year before, Pittsburgh had opened a glorious new ballpark right on the river with a view of downtown. Unfortunately, their silk purse came with a sow’s ear – the Pirates. That summer, the team mustered just seventy-five wins to finish fourth. We outdid ourselves the following season, seventy-two victories. Ta Da!

For two years, I did my job, did it pretty well, and then awoke one morning to learn I had been traded to the St. Louis Cardinals. The Pirates had started yet another urban renewal project. Rebuilding was the one thing they led the league in. Desirable assets, me I suppose, were being exchanged for still more prospects. I was headed for my second team, having been swapped for the legendary “player-to-be-named-later.”

At least I was going to a winning team with a great manager in Tony La Russa. In 2004, the Cards won a stupefying 105 games to take the pennant before having their lunch handed to them by the Red Sox in the Series. The team had front row seats for the death of the Curse. 2005 looked to be more of the same as we won 100 games and swept the Padres in the first round. In the next round, however, we got swarmed by the Astros’ killer B’s. Bagwell, Berkman and Biggio sent us packing in six games.

I enjoyed my season – notice I used the singular and not the plural – in St. Louis because the fans were arguably the best in Baseball. Soon, it was moving day again. The Cardinals had some young arms ready to come up from the minors. “Young arms” is a euphemism for rookies who play for the minimum, and I was a highly paid veteran – as a result of arbitration – at over $1,000,000 a year.

There is a dirty word for what I had become, a “journeyman.”

And while we are on the subject of dirty words, now appearing on your right is Tropicana Field, by unanimous consent the worst ballpark in the world. To me, it’s the box St. Petersburg came in, a domed monstrosity full of girders, cables, catwalks, and about a million-and-a half-ground rules. All of which begs the question, what genius decided that on a summer evening Floridians wanted to be indoors?” Happily, I had the displeasure of playing there on precious few occasions.

So, the Cards shipped me off to the Atlanta Braves. Talk about your boomtown, you can feel it growing around you. In Buckhead alone, there is enough nightlife for five cities, and, per square foot, more beautiful women than anywhere else in the world. You can’t swing a fungo bat without hitting a major babe. Needless to say, my three years in Atlanta were a lot of fun, thanks in large part to a new, lucrative three-year contract.

While there, I got to play for another big-time manager, Bobby Cox. There is a problem with playing for the likes of Cox and La Russa – they are used to winning. For fifteen straight years, the Braves had made the playoffs. Well, we put a stop to that.

Not only did we not make the playoffs, we chalked up the first losing season in fifteen years.

“Oh Lord, I hope they are not rebuilding.”

The Braves were a team in transition, learning to cope without future hall-of-famers Greg Maddux and Tom Glavine. The next season, we somewhat righted the ship – 84 wins left us five games behind the Phillies.

In reality, all we did was rearrange the deck chairs on the Titanic. The win total dropped to 72 the following year. Then we were 20 games adrift of the Phils. It was time to rebuild in Atlanta and time for me to go. During the winter, I was traded again, this time to Philadelphia, and in February 2009, I reported for spring training with the Phillies in Clearwater.

“Would it have killed somebody to trade me to the Red Sox?”

Clearwater is precisely where we are now. Having exited the 275, we are now northbound on U. S. Highway 19. First stop is the Lotus Dealer where I am leaving the Elise to be serviced. Note to anyone who plans on buying a high performance British sports car – make sure you know where the dealer is. Mine is fifty-five miles from home.

I am fortunate that the appointment only takes about three hours, and the service manager gives me a loaner car lest I miss an appointment and wind-up with parts stamped “Made in England” littering the Interstate. Ten minutes later, we are back on the Highway.

Spring with the Phillies did not start well. The Club already had left-handed relievers, so, why did they trade for me? There was talk about my going back to the minors, hardly music to my ears.

After six years in the show, the thought of playing out the summer in Allentown, PA, toiling in AAA for the Lehigh Valley IronPigs – whatever they are, was almost too much to bear. Now, for the first time ever, the “R” work crept through my mind. Retirement.

That said, pitchers can be notoriously fragile. Sure enough, a ligament tear here, a pulled muscle there, some tendinitis, and surprise – once again I was invaluable. That summer, the Phillies used twenty-two different pitchers.

I hated Philadelphia – didn’t like the town or the people, and the cheese steak will never replace the sub sandwich or a slice of Regina’s pizza. The poor man’s Cradle of Liberty held no allure for me since I grew up in the real one. The Phillies had moved into a new stadium in 2004, a big upgrade over the dump they used to play in. Citizens Bank Park is many things – pitcher friendly is not one of them. It wasn’t so much a ballpark as it was a launching pad – Canaveral, without the alligators. There were precisely three saving graces. The first, the Phillies were winners. Second, thanks to my now being eligible for free agency, they were paying me over $6,000,ooo a year on a three-year deal.

The third came in June of 1910, when a Delta charter landed at Logan Airport. As a result of inter-league play, the Phillies came to Boston. The next day, I walked on the grass at Fenway Park. You can change grass to sacred soil because, to any true New Englander, this is hallowed ground as surely as the sod on Lexington Green. I got to pitch in Baseball’s Basilica.

A month later, it was well past midnight when we checked-in at San Francisco. I got to my room, and the message light on the phone was blinking. My dad had called and said it was urgent. I called his cell phone and barely recognized the voice on the other end. Through his trembling lips came two words, “She’s gone.” My mother was dead. Four hours later, I was in a cab back to SFO, with a reservation on the first flight home. I arranged for a high school buddy to pick me up at Logan, and we drove to Newton.

The view of our classic New England brick and wood home off Commonwealth Avenue was a sight for these sore eyes. My father was crushed. High school sweethearts, they had been married for thirty-seven years. Two days later, we buried her in Holy Cross Cemetery in Malden.

The Navy was able to get word to Tommie, somewhere in the Med. As for my dad, my only hope was that he would throw himself into his work, which he did. As for me, heartbroken, I went back to helping the Phillies win ballgames. And we kept on winning. Like every team, we had injuries, and like every good team, we fought through them.

We put together a solid 93-win season and in September, clinched the Club’s third straight Division Title. We rolled through the playoffs, making short work of the Rockies and the Dodgers, and landed a spot in the Fall Classic. I now had a shot at a ring, but looming in the other dugout was the team every Bostonian loathes, none other than the Evil Empire. Swear to God – I’d root for the plague if it were playing the Yankees.

The bastards had won the Series twenty-six times, and far be it from us to stand in the way of number twenty-seven. So, the Bronx Bombers took us out, four games to two. No title for the City of Brotherly Love, and sadly, no ring for moi.

Midway through the next season, while warming up, I felt a sharp pain in my elbow. There are two places a pitcher never wants to feel discomfort – in the shoulder, which usually means a torn rotator cuff, and the elbow, most likely ligament damage. I wanted a second opinion. It took one trip to the Kerlan-Jobe Clinic in Los Angeles and one exam by the great Doctor Jobe himself to confirm my own diagnosis, my elbow needed work. In the lingo of medicine, it’s known as an “Ulnar collateral ligament reconstruction.” For a pitcher who didn’t quite make medical school, it’s called “Tommy John Surgery.” On July 23, I went under the knife. The surgeons were pleased with the procedure, and two weeks later I began rehab.

I was three months into rehabilitation before I was allowed to simulate a throwing motion. One month later, they let me swing a golf club. By February, I was throwing off a mound with little discomfort. I then joined the Phillies in Clearwater to do more throwing and increase my arm strength. In April, I started throwing my bread and butter pitch – the curve ball. For whatever reason, it wasn’t breaking, or as players would say, “biting.” During August, there was a traditional rehab tour of the minors, and left-handed batters who I used to have for lunch were lining shots over me, under me, and through me. In September, when Major League Baseball teams expand their rosters to forty players, the Phillies didn’t even bother call me up. In their minds and mine, I was done.

No sad songs for me. I had put in nine seasons in the bigs and earned what in clubhouse-ese was a “shit load” of money, and in time, will receive a very generous pension. While no one’s idea of a miser, I was somewhat careful with my Benjamins. Teammates would pony up $250,000 for a Ferrari, whereas your humble servant would plunk down 50 large for a Lotus. A $100,000,000 contract usually carries with it a 10,000 square foot mansion. As you will see, I settled for less. And for good measure, I bought a ton of Apple at 100 and sold it at 600. In short, I’m loaded.

Ahead is the Florida Highway 60 exit, then a quarter-mile down the State Road, followed by a right onto Old Coachman Road. Our destination is in sight – Bright House Field, spring home of the Phillies. It is part of the new wave of Florida ballparks, with seats for 7,500 and a berm to accommodate an additional 1,500 freeloaders.

I’m here to have lunch with a good buddy, David Murdoch. Davy was the chief nuclear engineer on what is known in the Navy as a “boomer,” a ballistic missile submarine. As with so many before him, two months without seeing the sun got to be a little old. Having retired from the service, now divorced, and grossly overqualified, the Phillies hired him to be of all things their groundskeeper at Bright House.

We pitchers all loved him because he tailored the field to our liking. Ground ball pitchers got taller grass, and the foul lines were slopped away so a bunt would not stay fair. The bulb finally went on over someone’s head, and he was named chief electrician. He is a stand-up guy, an above average golfer, and one of my best friends.

Lunch is at the Clearwater Wine Bar & Bistro, a popular spot on the water. While we wait for our food, Davy brings me up to speed on what he has been doing.

“The Stadium has decided to update the lighting system.”

Good lights are crucial in Florida for an obvious reason – in the summer, virtually every game is a night game. Davy drew up plans for a new, million dollar system. He got the Phillies to go for it based on the fact that it was more energy efficient and would pay for itself…in just a hundred years.

“You’re going to do that job? I realize that you can take a reactor apart in your sleep, but this sounds like trouble.”

“Do you think I’m going up those towers and handle all that high voltage? How dumb do I look? An outside firm does all the installation work. Design? Yes. Touch? No.”

“Consider me greatly relieved. I have plans to clean your clock at Prestancia. When can you come down?”

“We’ll be on the first tee just as soon as I put baby to bed.”

Two ginger ales, a club sandwich, and a fight over the check later – which I won, I drop him off at the ballpark.

Now back to the narrative. One morning during that first spring with the Pirates, I finished my work out early, borrowed a friend’s car, and went exploring. Seven miles south on U. S. Highway 41, I was stopped dead in my tracks. This was it. The sign said “Sarasota”; it might as easily said Paradise. The town’s motto could have been: “aqua, aqua, ubique.” Latin? Seriously? In English, that translates “water, water, everywhere.” Remember, I’m the product of a Catholic education. The area includes two bays, one intra-coastal waterway, inlets, outlets, canals, a bayou, a river and one Gulf of Mexico. If you love the water, and I do, this is the place.

The little town seemed to have everything – theatre, opera, ballet, excellent restaurants although the search for someone who can make lasagna like my mother goes on, and massive snob appeal, which we call sophistication. How could I not love a place whose symbol is Michelangelo’s David? I heard a voice saying,

“Someday I’m going to live here.”

It was my voice.

After three years in the relative squalor of a Pittsburgh apartment, I was ready to make my move.

Siesta Key is a special place, a barrier island with the Intracoastal Waterway on one side and the Gulf of Mexico on the other. Its signature feature, however, is the beach. By acclamation, the beach at Siesta Key is one of the ten best in the world. The reason? It’s the sand, which is pure white with the consistency of baby powder. It’s mostly borax, and one can walk barefoot on the hottest day of the year and not feel it. If a pitcher isn’t pitching, he’s running. What better place to do my miles than right here?

I knew what I wanted. The Key is crisscrossed with canals that feed into the Gulf. The search was on for a home that sits by a canal. My realtor lined up a couple of choices, and number two was the winner, a three-and-a-den fixer, complete with a pool/Jacuzzi combination, and – drum roll please – a dock.

The combination of needs, work, and the bursting Florida real estate bubble made it a steal. A renovation included Alabaster walls, French doors, and a large island in the kitchen since, to an Italian, the cucina is the center of the universe. It took a month, but one day I woke up and was living a five iron from the Gulf. OK, I’ve told you who I am, where I’m from, and what I used to do. The remaining question is,

“What do I do now?”

Well, for starters, I’m a Florida first responder. I signed on as a member of the shock troops when the inevitable big one, Hurricane “fill-in-the-blank”, comes roaring up I-75. In addition, I do some charity fundraising, help coach a little league team, and in my spare time, I am something of a golfer, thanks to a membership at TPC Prestancia. The membership committee was obviously drunk when they voted me in. Oh yes, there is one more thing. I am quite possibly the first ex-ballplayer ever to become a P.I. That is correct. Vic Landell, former big league pitcher, is now Vic Landell, private investigator. Why and how I got this job in a bit, right now I’m just trying to get home.

U.S. Highway 41 is also the Tamiami Trail, or better known to the locals, “The Trail.” It is the main drag through Sarasota, Bradenton, and miles beyond. Outsiders believe the summer is the worst time to be in Florida, and they would be wrong. The winter is the worst time. Why? I can answer that with one word: snowbirds. The Trail, almost desolate in August, is our version of a California Freeway in January. Ohio and Indiana license plates outnumber those that read Florida. It took all of three weeks before I grew to loathe the interlopers.

“Bastards, why don’t they just go home and leave us alone?”

I was an official resident. Normally they are a fact of life and you just put up with them. Tonight is different – I have a date.

    “BURDEN OF PROOF” – Chapter 1 What’s in a Name? My father was born Vito Anthony Orlandella, and he didn’t much care for his name.