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It is the melancholic mosaic of a season on the cusp of transition, summer as autumn beckons, when shadows stretch a little longer, turning us wistful, and we are perhaps yearning to be, as E. E. Cummings wrote, “locked in foreverish time’s tide at poise.” It is no secret that the light on Cape Ann can render emotional reflection. Come summer, the ricochet sunsets can absolutely take our breath away, as though we are bewitched by beauty. When a morning arrives in July, after a solid stretch of sultry heat, and a welcome deluge of rain has left pavements steaming and scattered with a handful of tiny yellow leaves, we are reminded that
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