Hays begins this book in July by describing a horrific accident he witnessed on his drive. Thus Hays has set the pessimistic tone for much of this book.
One of the more interesting chapters is called “colors of the season” in October. Hay describes the many varieties of colorful mushrooms that appear. “Some of the reddest mushrooms, in point of fact, are the best to eat. But the deadly Amanita is almost tempting in appearance. It is white and succulent-looking, and to eat it enough of it means death.”
Of November he says, “ We are now in a genuine country state of which the urban power talks with both scorn and ignorant nostalgia….To a city lover, it is silent and deadly dull.”
He talks about the birds in the winter and their struggle to survive. “ I think of the hundreds of water birds that I have seen this winter dying, starving, poisoned, or freezing to death as a result of having their plumage soaked by waste oil from ships…Almost any day that I visit the shore I find a victim.”
The spring brings some reprieve with the resurgence of nature but alas there is a shipwreck. “ I read in the papers that spring is beginning to show its vast capacity in the nation behind us, with tornadoes in the west and floods to the south. The way is being cleared with a violence.“
Unlike Henry Beston and Wyman Richardson who find delight in every aspect of the Cape, Hay is too much of a Debbie Downer. I will read The Great Beach at some point but do not have high hopes for it.