Sea Crow Press Welcomes Author Aline Lindemann

Sea Crow Press is growing!

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. 

Aline Lindemann studied and taught for many years at Arizona State University, Ottawa University and the Religious Literacy Project at Harvard Divinity School. She currently owns a small boutique on Cape Cod called Cottage that celebrates the beauty of vintage goods and new art by local artists. 

Rock of Ages

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.

The sky and the ocean.

Does Rock remember? Perhaps.  Do we remember? Absolutely.

Low tide reveals ancient glacial rocks on a Cape Cod beach.

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

Introducing Author W.S. Childress!

Forthcoming 2022

W. S. Childress is a high school English teacher in Sandwich, Massachusetts. Currently, he is writing a Young Adult mystery fiction series of novels set on Cape Cod. Sea Crow Press is excited to be publishing the first book of this series, Ronnie Willow & the Silver Mask, which draws so much on the beauty and community of Cape Cod.

ABOUT THE BOOK

As Ronnie Willow begins her freshman year at a new high school on Cape Cod, she finds a forgotten diary in the hold of an old sailboat. As she and her friends search for clues about the dairy’s mysterious author, they stumble upon the cold case of a missing person. The case quickly warms up and threatens to burn them all as they scramble to solve it before getting scorched themselves. And as Ronnie searches for answers, she also searches for herself and how she fits into her new community. 

AN EXCERPT FROM Ronnie Willow & the Silver Mask

School starts in a couple of days. I can’t believe I came back and left her at home with my parents, but I must find closure. I must make things right. I feel terrible, but I couldn’t tell Mom, and I certainly  couldn’t tell Dad why I needed to come back.  

Her pen hovers over the  diary as she considers what to write next. A calico cat walks across the page. “Maceo,” she says, her voice in teacher mode, admonishing the cat as she would her students. She pushes him away and continues to write:

Why didn’t I bring her with me? I don’t know. A feeling. Maybe shame. Maybe I couldn’t look at her – at both of them. Maybe I don’t want her to see her. I just hope she can forgive me because I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself.

She reviews her writing and closes the diary, closes the brass clasp, and locks it with a small brass key etched with a distinctive ‘R’. Leaving the diary on the dining room table, she grasps the key and heads out the front door to her bicycle.

Riding the short distance to Kent Yacht Club, she turns onto a private road filled with potholes. At least it’s paved now, she thinks. At the end of the road, an old wooden boathouse sits between two ancient red cedars, flanked on one side by rows of bathhouses and on the other by a small beach lined with sailboats, a swing set, and a sandbox.

The barn doors of the boathouse are locked, so she walks down the dock  to the water.  She sits between two skiffs and places her bare feet in the cool waters. Across the harbor she sees Sandy Neck – the lighthouse, the old cabins, the rolling dunes, and the green grasses. It’s always a postcard here, she thinks. If only she could freeze time the way this place does, or better yet if only she could go back and make things right. A gust of wind hits, rocking the dock and pushing her back. She opens her hand and takes one last look at the key. 

“I know, Seth,” she whispers. “I know.” She stands and throws the key as far as she can, watching as it hits the water and is swept away by the swift currents of the Harbor.

This is the third book W.S. Childress has written, but it is his first Young Adult novel. He is the Chair of the English department in Sandwich, Massachusetts. Ronnie Willow & the Silver Mask is set in a fictional town loosely based on Sandwich and Barnstable.

Introducing Author Marc Woodward!

Forthcoming in spring 2022.

Marc Woodward is an Anglo/American poet and musician living in the rural English West Country. His writing reflects his green surroundings, often with a dark undercurrent and a hint of wry humour. Sea Crow Press is delighted to be publishing his new collection, Shaking the Persimmon Tree, in spring 2022. Marc wrote this collection from the wild and sunny hills of Abruzzo in central Italy, as well as reporting from his usual territory in the bucolic English West Country. The poems range from environmental concern (‘the right-****ing-now of climate change’), to the Covid pandemic, police badgers (!), escaped lovers and archeological road trips – as well as facing up to some of the darkest shadows which stalk us all. 

In his own words:

I’m delighted to announce my new collection Shaking The Persimmon Tree will be published by Sea Crow Press and I’m thrilled to join the growing family of this new, exciting, publisher based on Cape Cod.

Cape Cod holds a special place in my heart – back in 2015 I came over to the Cape to teach mandolin at a weekend ‘camp’ in East Sandwich. After the weekend was over I rented a cabin on Gull Pond near Wellfleet and holed up there to concentrate on writing. My chapbook A Fright of Jays had come out earlier that year and I was putting together work that was eventually published in 2018 as Hide Songs – including a sequence of poems written on the Cape. 

I went at dawn to Newcomb Hollow,

a war reporter for Breaking Light,

to see the last gasp darkness swallowed 

down the gullet of a mackerel sky.. 

I was spied by periscoping seals

peep holing through the barbed edge ocean,

commanding waves to raid and steal 

in constant pillaging incursions

(Excerpt from The Battle of Newcomb Hollow – Hide Songs pub. by Green Bottle Press, 2018)

When I was there it was early October, the summer crowds had left and the Cape had the distinct feeling of the party being over. And that’s fine with me, I’m not good with crowds. I prefer to visit a beach at dawn, a quiet gallery or a bookshop relaxing into its own dust. Somewhere I picked up a copy of Walden by Thoreau, it could’ve been that secondhand bookshop attached to an Oyster bar overlooking an empty lot and windy curl of beach (surely that’s a combination you’d find nowhere else but on Cape Cod?) – but the book was new so I think it came from the little bookstore in Provincetown. I’d driven up there to go out whale watching:

Motoring out under a yawning Cape sky,

we pass three lighthouses on yellow dunes

into the oculus of air and ocean.

Shearwaters run upon the sea then rise,

tripping upwards from their light fantastic 

as we scan for humpback, minke and fin.

(Excerpt from The Light at Cape Cod – The Tin Lodes, pub. by Indigo Dreams 2020).

Thoreau seemed appropriate reading while living in a cabin on a lake – even if only for a few days! The following week I was booked to play a gig upstate and on my way from Boston I drove through Concord, Thoreau’s home town. I didn’t stop though. Maybe next time. 

Whether I get out to the Cape again remains to be seen – my memories from that time are recorded in verse – but it feels special to be reminded of my visit by working with Sea Crow Press. 

It would be remiss of me if I didn’t end this post with some lines from the forthcoming book which focuses on my homeland of England and Italy where I’m fortunate enough to spend occasional periods. 

This is a one-sentence sonnet designed to leave the reader slightly breathless and flustered – perhaps like the Cape on a crowded summer’s day!

Lovers in the Elephant Grass 

Sunlight stripes us through the wavering stalks 

as we lie breathless and high, listening 

to the frantic insistence of skylarks, 

feeling our hearts recover, pulses slow,

numb to all of time but this one moment, 

wild within the elephant grass raffia,

its thin shadow grid moving across us, 

so if we half close our eyes we flicker

like the final frames of an old film show 

about jailbreak runaways who outwit 

the hounds and strip off in a southern field, 

shedding more arrows than eager Cupid, 

only to find their malnourished bodies 

tattooed with a sweet and biblical crime.

***

Marc Woodward has been published internationally in a wide range of journals, anthologies, and online sites. He was writer-in-residence at The Wellstone Center in Santa Cruz, CA. in 2018 and shortlisted for that year’s Bridport Prize; won the 2019 Keats’ Footsteps Prize, and was commended for the 2020 Acumen Poetry Prize and the 2020 Aesthetica Creative Writing Award.

His previous collections include A Fright of Jays (Maquette Press, 2015), Hide Songs (Green Bottle Press, 2018), and The Tin Lodes written in collaboration with well-known poet and professor Andy Brown (Indigo Dreams 2020).

Seasons Change and So Do We

As Labor Day approached, we dreaded summer’s ending.

In my youth, as Labor Day approached, we dreaded summer’s ending and counted the days of freedom remaining before school resumed. Now we still count the days until Labor Day, but for a different reason!

The Labor Day holiday no longer rings down the final curtain on summer.

Formerly, the day after Labor Day was almost eerily quiet. If there was still some traffic around, my mother would remark, “They haven’t all gone home yet!”

Seasonal shops and restaurants would be closed, and we would have to wait another year to satisfy our ice cream cravings. Outdoor fairs were over; clambakes and cookouts had become only fond memories. 


Now, Labor Day ushers in the shoulder season, which brings a new crop of visitors or extends the stays of visitors already here.

Many seasonal businesses stay open until Columbus Day, at least on the weekends, and inns have not yet gone to off-season rates. Farmers markets, which did not exist in most Cape towns during my adolescence, display their beautiful fall produce. There are a few more opportunities for fried clams and soft-serve. Although traffic congestion may ease a bit, it doesn’t disappear. 

The spectacular Cape autumns were a well-kept secret for decades, but few secrets can be kept forever. 

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.
Read more about Cape Cod in Mary E. McDermott’s book Old Orleans, Memories of a Cape Cod Town.

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Take a Cape Cod book to the beach with Moon Tide: Cape Cod Poems by Mary Petiet.

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Let Cape Cod inspire you.

Find inspiration in the rising sun, poetry flowing with the tide, and beautiful prose emerging from the gentle fog. Cape Cod: A Writer’s Journal, a new book by Mary Petiet.

The 20 prompts and inspirational quotes in this interactive journal were designed by a Cape Cod writer to connect you to your muse so you can capture the beauty of Cape Cod on paper. Each prompt leads you to your personal writing style as you cover the blank pages of this pocket sized journal with your deepest thoughts and insights. It’s designed to fit in your pocket, so take it with you as you travel Cape Cod, and if you’re far away rely upon it to transport you to these shores which have always worked their magic on the written word.

Go For It: Sea Crow Press Turns One!

Sea Crow Press celebrates its first birthday!

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.

Looking forward

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!

Outside of Time

Grab your camera and notebook!

Wooden boats and piers. Waving marsh grass and sandy beaches. If you stand back and squint, Cape Cod becomes a place outside of time.

This is where inspiration comes from.

I wander with a notebook and a camera and I record the timelessness between the words that come and the images I find.

Put simply, to create poetry I stand back and squint. I take long walks and pay attention. I allow myself to inhabit the landscape.

This slideshow is a visual sample of what I’ve found.

Cape Cod has many moods.

My photography is point and click, nothing sophisticated, but I love to try to capture the mood, and sometimes I manage it. I actually dream of painting it one day.

My writing springs from the landscape I photograph. It’s all one thing in its way.

So grab your camera and notebook. Watch and listen. See through all your senses. The words are there, the pictures are there, even the paintings are there.

You can find our books wherever good books are sold. Ask at your local bookstore, and if you’re in Orleans, find them at Sea Howl, Cottage Cape Cod, and Oceana.

Cemetery Musings

“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. 

A New England Grave Yard in the Fall.

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

Orleans Street Names

Every street name has its story!

Who remembers the original name of Tonset Road Extension? It was Stone Crusher Road because the machine used to crush stones for road construction had been located there.


Beriah Doane of East Orleans had a spring where people would often go to get fresh water; it was commonly known as “Beriah’s spring.” That’s how Briar Spring Road got its name! This information was imparted to me by the late realtor Tod Rattle.


Uncle Harvey’s Way honors Harvey Sparrow, who served in the War of 1812. He and his wife, Betsey, are interred in the Orleans Cemetery. 

A street scene in Orleans on Cape Cod. Photo by John Phelan


Captain Linnell Road was named for Captain Ebenezer Harding Linnell, who built and lived in the mansion formerly occupied by the Captain Linnell House restaurant near Skaket Beach. There is a monument to Captain Linnell in the cemetery, but his body was claimed by the sea on an ill-fated voyage. 


Aunt Polly’s Way commemorates Mary White Talbot, fondly known as Aunt Polly. She was the sister of Sara White Johnstone, who operated the outdoor Greenwood Theatre with her husband, William Bard Johnstone. The Johnstones and Whites were instrumental in founding the Church of the Holy Spirit on Monument Road, not far from where they lived.


Winslow Drive recalls the Winslow family, who owned a large amount of property in South Orleans. They were the owners of United Shoe Machinery in Boston.


In the Weeset section of Tonset is Sage’s Way, which honors Albert Snow, a local historian who was nicknamed the Sage of Weeset.


Eldredge Park Way reflects the name of the adjacent ball field. When the Orleans town nurse had her office in the elementary school, the first listing under “Town of Orleans” in the phone book was “Nurse Eldredge Park Way.”

Mail addressed to the Town at “Nurse Eldredge Park Way” would occasionally arrive at Town Hall! I suppose the writers must have wondered who the heroic Nurse Eldredge had been!


Every street name has its story!

Read more stories about Cape Cod in Mary McDermott’s book Old Orleans: Memories of a Cape Cod Town from Sea Crow Press.

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.

What Was School Like on Old Cape Cod?

The Education of an Orleans Girl.

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.

Orleans High School back in the day.

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!

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.

Old Orleans: Memories of a Cape Cod Town, is available now wherever good books are sold, especially your local book store.