Posts Tagged ‘Yarmouthport’

Inaho is housed in a sweet little house on 6A in Yarmouth Port

Inaho is housed in a sweet little spot on 6A in Yarmouth Port

It is a sad truth that a girl cannot live on fried seafood and ice cream alone. God knows that during Cape Cod summers I sure have tried. And yes, with my high level consumption of both clam chowder and Black Raspberry ice cream, I’m definitely getting enough calcium, but occasionally I crave something that won’t make it impossible to fit into my jeans. And when this time comes, my first destination is the wonderful and elegant Japanese restaurant Inaho – located on Route 6A in Yarmouth Port. (more…)


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blueberries 2

The large number of unripened blueberries at the Taylor-Bray Farm's blueberry patch means that they'll be be berries to pick for the next couple of weeks - at least!

We are thick into blueberry-picking season and I don’t know of any pick-your-own spot more beautiful than the one to be found at Taylor-Bray Farm – a gorgeous, 22-acre working farm in Yarmouth Port that dates back to 1639. I arrived at the farm early in the morning – tupperware in hand – ready to do some serious picking. As I walked the verdant fields toward the blueberry patch, with views of the Black Flat marsh stretched out ahead of me, I saw two cottontail bunnies hopping about and a multitude of swallows flitting and flying low along the grass. And then I saw the glorious blueberry bushes, standing at about 7 feet tall and heavy with both ripened and unrippened berries. Ah, yes, I thought. This is a perfect summer moment.

I got right into the patch, greedily picking all that my quickly working fingers could grab. My mind emptied and quieted. Much like a ninja (if a ninja picked his own fruit, which I’m sure he does), I was focused; I was quick; I was agile. As soon as my tupperware was full, I climbed into my car, my hands wrapped around my bounty. Then I looked at the time – an hour and a half had passed since I had arrived at Taylor-Bray Farm. Had it been that long? It only felt like a few minutes.


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The weather was quite grim and drizzly this morning, so I decided to celebrate the general atmosphere of melancholy by visiting The Gorey House – a gorgeous old place on 6A in Yarmouthport that was once the home of the brilliant author and illustrator Edward Gorey (1925-2000) and is now a museum dedicated to his life and his work. Gorey is famous for his macabre tales and illustrations which feature doomed ballerinas, ill-fated children, strange, sad-eyed monsters, and mustachioed dandies decked out in long fur coats and old timey racing goggles. Gorey’s humor is as dark as the blackest of nights, his language is delightful, eccentric, and addictive, and his drawings are crosshatched perfection.

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