Duck Harbor in a Bottle?

Yesterday afternoon Sven and I went to Duck Harbor Beach, one of my favorite places on earth. To the north, blue sky. To the south, storm clouds. From time to time the sun would
break through. We stopped to watch as rays streamed down, illuminating parts of Cape Cod Bay. The sight reminded me of those images of an omnificent God, straddling a cloud for a good heart-to-heart with Charlton Heston as Moses in The Ten Commandments. Once I wrote here about Duck Harbor, calling it "Heaven's Gate," a description inspired by the feeling of peace that adds bounce to your gait and completely clears the mind of all stress. If they could bottle the stuff, the citizens of our town would have a brand new, environmentally-friendly industry on their hands. We could advertise the benefits, hand out samples at the flea market. "Take home a case after vacation. Just pop open a bottle to hear the gentle lapping of waves and smell the sea. Experience a vista of incredible beauty that will unfurl in an instant, wrapping your drab urban landscape in luscious blues and beige . . ." I scanned the horizon but did not see the right whales that are feeding this week in Cape Cod Bay, presumably further out, off the tip of Provincetown. On the way back to our car, a loud chorus of birdsong rose from the wetland behind the low dune. Oh, the birds sang merrily, chirping about the glorious day or perhaps the fact that the Seashore folks have not yet primed any traps with poisoned eggs to kill crows. Not one bird could we see, so well were they hidden in the bushes ...