Aline Lindemann is an artist and writer whose work honors and explores the intersection of spirituality and nature with a special emphasis on the meaning of home. Though she has traveled far and wide both for pleasure and in service to nonprofits that provide for displaced people seeking refuge in unfamiliar lands, it is her beloved Cape Cod home and an unceasing fascination with the sea that inspire and pervade her art and her writing.
In her own words
I’m absolutely delighted to join Sea Crow Press with my forthcoming book DRIFT, a collection of poems and narratives that linger in moments when time morphs into something simultaneously spirit-filled and sluggish: observing the incoming tide, watching a grown child paddle out to sea, or the stupefying feeling of ineptness in the face of a broken world. This collection notices, and even celebrates those brief instances when the inextricable link between nature and spirit are so apparent.
As a longtime artist, writer, spiritual seeker and religious studies professor, I’m quite comfortable hanging out in the abstract spaces between creeds and questions, certainty and skepticism. Many of the pieces in this collection are informed by countless hours of contemplation along the shores of Cape Cod, and several emerged from repeated trips to refugee camps in Greece where so many Yazidi people befriended me and shared their stories of hardship and determination. I learned more from them and their innate knowledge of themselves as integral members of nature’s grand oneness than they will ever know.
Blessed to have lived many years in the deserts of Arizona, and now on the shores of Cape Cod, my faith journey, the natural beauty of the Cape, and all who drift, whether deeper within or across unknown lands in search of rest, are constant sources of inspiration.
When you sit on my porch you’re really sitting with Rock.
A long time ago, a retreating glacier left a huge rock in my front yard.
When you sit on my porch you’re really sitting with Rock. In summer, soft green lichen covers its top. In winter it stands above the snowline, and kids like to climb upon it playing king of the mountain.
For all I know, Rock goes deep into the earth, possibly emerging in China…*
A long time ago, Cape Cod was born of retreating ice. Before the trees, the road, and the house, the rock was there, and after all of today’s uncertainties, the rock will still be there.
We live atop a scene of ancient devastation.
Like the sky above and the ocean that surrounds the Cape, Rock sits in mute testament to endurance.
Does Rock remember?Perhaps. Do we remember? Absolutely.
To sit with rock is to remember the long game, the endless bend and stretch of time. Rock is of the eons and surely full of stories. We are of this moment, and also full of stories, and we share with Rock this capacity to endure.
Read Rock’s whole story in Moon Tide: Cape Cod Poems.
*Excerpts are from the poem Rock in Moon Tide: Cape Cod Poems
This time last July we were grounded by COVID and I was crossing my fingers and publishing Moon Tide, the first title from Sea Crow Press. Could I pull a book together? Would anyone read it? I was having all the doubts, but I figured it out and suddenly, this month Sea Crow Press is celebrating its first birthday!
The journey from confirmed bookworm and writer to publisher as been pretty amazing. I’ve always loved reading books, but I was surprise at how exciting the process of creating them can be. It’s a tremendous moment when you hold the first proof copy in your hands and really see how all the details come together on paper. It’s an act of creation, and the next step, sharing it, is even more exiting. There is the feeling of having made the world a more beautiful place, and the certainty of having amplified voices which might otherwise have gone unheard.
This is why the small press is a crucial component to the arts and it’s what Sea Crow Press is all about.
A year in the life of a small press
Some scenes from the last year at Sea Crow Press.
Our small press is growing
Over the last 12 months the Sea Crow Press team has grown to include two editors and a cover designer, because attention to detail and great covers are two keys to success as a small press. The other keys are great writers and readers.
This is a great time to send a shout of thanks to all out to all you readers out there! We wouldn’t be here without you!
Wondering how to get published?
If you’re thinking about publishing in any form take a deep breath and do it.
We have published four books to date. Each one is special. We have signed on two new authors with whom we worked closely to make the best book possible and with whom we continue to work closely to make sure the book finds its readers.
So far, summer 2021 is looking good. In the next weeks we’ll be sharing plans for events on the Cape for readers there, and stay tuned for our surprise summer publication as well!
“If in heaven
There is no wit
You’ll know she went
To hell for it.”
Cemeteries have fascinated me ever since the days when I would accompany my mother and aunt to place geraniums on the family graves for Memorial Day. As anyone knows who has taken Bonnie Snow’s cemetery tour, burial grounds give one a sense of connection with our history.
The Orleans Cemetery is the final resting place of Isaac Snow, who was instrumental in naming the town and who was our last surviving Revolutionary War veteran. Also interred here are “Uncle Harvey” Sparrow, who served in the War of 1812, and Webster Rogers, the longest-lived of our Spanish-American war veterans. Webster’s daughter, Emma Augusta Rogers, known as “Emma Gusty”, made her own graduation dress, but her father would not allow her to attend the ceremony. She vowed to be buried in the dress, and she was, over 70 years later!
One of my family graves has a tragic story. My great-aunt Myrtice Chase, wife of my great-uncle Ernie, was a young wife of 23, having her first child. According to family lore, she was given ether, which her lungs could not tolerate; she died and the baby died with her. She was buried with the baby still in utero, and her husband never knew if it would have been a son or a daughter.
On a happier note, the cemetery holds the remains of Dr Claude Heaton, who delivered Margaret Mead’s daughter, Mary Catherine Bateson. Apparently, Mead wanted either a home birth or natural childbirth or both, and Dr Heaton was the only physician who would agree to her wishes. Mother and daughter came through the experience in good health. as she relates in her autobiography.
At the top of the hill is Barna Sprague’s gravestone, with the face of a dog carved into each of the top corners. These canine faces represent her two yellow Labs, Breeze and Daisy; Barna died while trying to rescue Breeze from a fire which destroyed her home. (Daisy escaped.) It was typical of Barna to risk her life for a beloved pet; her heart brimmed with compassion for animals.
But cemeteries can also hold unexpected flashes of humor. Consider the stone of John and Grace Lyons. She was the first to pass, and her epitaph reads, “If in heaven/There is no wit/You’ll know she went/ To hell for it.” After his death much later, his epitaph was inscribed: “Thirty years later/Still loving his Grace,/He hoped to meet her/Either place!”
I encourage everyone to take a walk in a cemetery. There is always much to be learned.
Mary E. McDermott is a 13th-generation Cape Codder living in Orleans. She worked for 17 years in the Orleans Assessor’s Office and 23 years as a commercial insurance broker at Pike Insurance Agency. She has been a justice of the peace to solemnize marriages since 1976 and has previously published two books of poetry, Tapestry and Handle with Care. Her poems have appeared in several publications including the Christian Science Monitor.
Sea Crow Press has two books about Cape Cod.
read more about Old Orleans in Mary E. McDermott’s new book
take some poetry to the beach with Moon Tide by Mary Petiet
Sea Crow Press author Mary E. McDermott reminisces about student life in her beloved home town Orleans. Her new book,Old Orleans: Memories of a Cape Cod Town, preserves stories of local life in simpler times.
The lives of Orleans baby boomers were influenced by a succession of teachers, all of whom had distinct personalities and who played various roles in shaping our education.
Our first-grade teacher, Mrs Eldredge, had high standards and an often-sharp tongue, but impeccable taste in literature. She introduced the class to Beatrix Potter’s Tale of Peter Rabbit and Carl Sandburg’s Rootabaga Stories, an introduction for which I am still grateful.
Third grade’s Mrs Wilcox (later Mrs Wright), had a wonderful sense of fun and humor, as well as empathy. On one hot day, someone from another grade brought her a bottle of Pepsi, which she would not drink in our thirsty presence. A nature enthusiast who lived near the school, she once walked the entire class over to her house at lunchtime to watch the birds at her feeders. On winter afternoons, an upperclassman would come by with a report as to which ponds were safe to skate on. Ice House Pond off Brick Hill Road in East Orleans—better known as “the pond behind Charlie Moore’s” —was usually among them.
The town’s first Catholic priest, Father James Lynch, had long dreamed of opening a parochial school, and his dream came true. The school building, which held grades from kindergarten through eighth, is now home to the St Joan of Arc thrift shop. A group of the Sisters of Divine Providence from Pennsylvania came to teach. Some, like Sister Georgette and Sister Marianne, were gentle souls who truly loved children. Others, who shall remain nameless, ruled by the ruler across the knuckles and soul-searing insults. But they all taught us to study hard; every afternoon, our book bags were heavy with homework.
When I entered high school in 1960, the district had regionalized to include Orleans, Eastham, and Wellfleet. Brewster students could choose to attend Nauset or Dennis-Yarmouth, and those from Truro could come to Nauset or go to Provincetown, which today is part of the Nauset region. A few of the Wellfleet boys were jokers, and their jokes were not always funny. A few years ago, I asked one of them why they had picked on people, and he replied, “Because it was our first time on someone else’s turf, and we were scared.” That was a revelation.
The faculty included some first-rate teachers with knowledge and wit. English teacher Miss Elisabeth Hooker founded the Archy Club, named for the cockroach in Archy and Mehitabel; members could come in early for help with spelling and punctuation. Dr Stewart Brooks, who taught Latin and ancient history, invented the holiday Egredior Day, which fell on March fourth, because egredior in Latin means march forth. Mrs Betty Murphy made the French language a lot of fun and also participated as a cheerleader at the annual student-faculty basketball game. Mrs Frances Mayfarth knew that her juniors would not be able to focus on English the day before Christmas vacation, so she had us put our desks in a circle and take turns relating how we learned that there was no Santa Claus.
We may have come from a small-town setting, but we were sent into the world with as fine a background as could be found anywhere!
Old Orleans: Memories of a Cape Cod Town, is available now wherever good books are sold, especially your local book store.
Almost across the street from my home was a private residence which had originally been the town almshouse; it is now the site of the police station. Back then, the fire and police departments shared quarters on Main Street. The fire whistle was tested daily at noon. When it blew for a fire, the number of short and long blasts indicated the area of town where the fire was located. Nearly every household had a card, sponsored by Ellis’ Market, which explained the different codes; when the whistle sounded, the card was eagerly consulted!
Freight trains still ran through town, and it was a treat to go to Depot Square (now part of Old Colony Way) and watch the train come in.
Summer held additional treats: each year, the American Legion sponsored a carnival for a week. The carnivals traveled from town to town and were the delight of all the kids and many adults as well.
A glimpse inside Old Orleans
Another seasonal treat was to go to Philbrick’s Snack Shack at Nauset Beach for fried clams or scallops and their incomparable onion rings. Dessert might be an ice cream cone from Pal’s or Howard Johnson’s (nobody called it HoJo’s then).
Orleans was home to some interesting individuals. I remember Mrs Carter, who had a sort of boutique on Main Street and always went barefoot. In my mind’s eye is a picture of her crossing the street, wearing a beautiful blue dress, with nothing between her soles and the pavement.
For some time, friends had been urging me to preserve some of my memories, especially those concerning my mother, a 12th-generation native, and thus was born Old Orleans: Memories of a Cape Cod Town. I hope readers will enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Old Orleans: Memories of a Cape Cod Town, is available now wherever good books are sold, especially your local book store.
Find out what books author Fran McNicol can’t live without in her guest blog for A Little Book Problem! Fran is the author of Bare Hooves and Open Hearts, a book about connection and best animal husbandry. #nelipotcottage #seacrowpress #alittlebookproblem #whatareyoureading
Today I am transporting another fortunate/unfortunate soul to my desert island with nothing to keep them company except five books of their choice and one luxury item. This week I have stranded author… Fran McNicol.
Jakob Beer is seven years old when he is rescued from the muddy ruins of a buried village in Nazi-occupied Poland. Of his family, he is the only one who has survived. Under the guidance of the Greek geologist Athos, Jakob must steel himself to excavate the horrors of his own history.
A novel of astounding beauty and wisdom, Fugitive Pieces is a profound meditation on the resilience of the human spirit and love’s ability to resurrect even the most damaged of hearts.
The first time I read Anne Michaels I was transfixed. She is a poet before a novelist and her use of language is precision…
Fran is an accomplished surgeon and horsewoman and she writes from Nelipot Cottage in the English countryside.
What if we could keep our beloved horses in a way that is governed by their needs, rather than our convenience? What if we could offer horses a life that fulfils their need for friends, forage and freedom, as well as our goals and desires?
This seems a fair exchange in return for allowing us to share their grace and beauty. A healthy, happy and sound horse would be a partner in a dream come true.
This book is the story of my journey, from horse-mad child, through goal orientated doctor training horses for competition, to listening to my horses and learning from them about life and love.
An afternoon spent reading Fran McNicol is a journey through the English countryside with her band of horses and loyal dog. Along the way, she shares her best practice techniques to achieve barefoot healthy horses pastured in social groups with access to forage in fields rewilded to combine best horse nutrition with best environmental practice.
Barefoot Hooves and Open Hearts will be available on March 30 from Sea Crow Press and wherever good books are sold.
Until then, stay tuned for our cover reveal, and a series of blogs from Nelipot Cottage.
Fran McNicol is an amateur equestrienne living in the UK. As a full-time surgeon, she obviously knows a huge amount about the human animal, but the most useful product of medical training, from the horses’ point of view, is that she learned how to research, evaluate evidence, and then apply theory to optimise the care of her horses.
Her writing is therefore a mix of opinion and her current state of learning from 25 years of doctoring, time working around the world as a polo groom, and many years of keeping her own horses. She loves training young horses and focuses on riding the sport horse both classically and holistically. She competes regularly for her local riding club, especially in One Day Eventing.
Nelipot Cottage started life as an educational blog to share learning and best practise to promote the benefits of a barefoot and holistic herd lifestyle for whole horse health and to reflect on life lessons learned along the way. She believes that horses exist to bring out the very best in humans. Fran hopes that sharing these tales will bring new friends, kindred spirits, exchange of knowledge, and lots of positive energy into the lives of the Nelipot herd.