Driving up Route 6 in early spring to Truro, I scan the sides of the road to see what’s open. How does this seaside town, three miles at it’s widest, ready itself for an influx of summer residents and visitors? I’ve spent parts of so many summers here, and many places hold personal meaning to me: a restaurant where my son had worked summers in the kitchen, a motel where guests at my daughter’s wedding had stayed, and a small museum, which presents Truro’s history through the stories of its people.
My photography focuses on the largely un-noticed scenes and transitions that occur as the town wakes from a very long and quiet time. Structures so close to the sea need constant repair, patching and painting. When a building isn’t heated in winter, artifacts must be protected from mold and mice; rooms are “put to bed” for the winter, dressed and readied in spring. A host of local carpenters, volunteers and employees address these needs, year after year.
Through my work I feel a deeper connection to this community, which has figured so strongly in my life. We don’t often appreciate all that’s happened before another summer starts and we visit again.