On a crisp autumn morning, I set out on a hike through the rolling sand dunes of Provincetown. I was on a quest to peek at the legendary dune shacks.
As I trudged along the windswept trails, a man stepped out of a thicket of twisted, salt-bleached branches, his yellow rain jacket bright against the muted colors of the dunes, his boots sinking slightly into the soft sand. He carried a dusty red mesh bag, the kind you might find filled with mussels at a seafood market. But as I got closer, I saw his bag wasn’t full of shellfish; it was brimming with crimson cranberries.
He introduced himself as Jim O’Connell, a Wellfleet shellfisherman. He’s been coming to this same secluded spot to harvest cranberries for decades. Cape Cod National Seashore regulations allow a person to pick one gallon of cranberries per day, and Jim makes it a tradition to collect just enough to bake cranberry bread for the holidays.
We stood for a while under the bent and braided woodlands, and Jim talked about the fleeting beauty of the world around us. As I listened, I felt a strange sense of peace. The dunes stretched endlessly around us, silent witnesses to our conversation.
I had come to catch a glimpse of the dune shacks, but instead I found a reminder of the richness of unexpected encounters and an appreciation for life’s small treasures.
