On our walk down to the water last night, I noticed something was different in our little town. Houses that sit silent in the fall, winter, and spring months had movement inside them again. And instead of our path to the water being lit only by the light of the moon, the soft glow of lights from front porches showed us the way.

The tourists have arrived. And this year they're a bit early too.

After our round-the-world trip, I suppose it's quite fitting that Tim and I moved to a place where tourists from around the world flock to each year. From the pilgrims to the Kennedys, from the National Seashore to the artist colonies, Cape Cod is home to an amazing amount of history, culture, and natural beauty. And every summer like clockwork, new and familiar faces appear, dozens of languages are spoken, and incredible memories are made when the tourists come to town.

I first came to the Cape when I was a child: it's a place that holds meaning in my family's history. My mother grew up coming here as a child, as did her parents before her. And my father fell in love with the Cape too, right around the time he fell in love with my mom. In fact, they loved the Cape so much they honeymooned here. So it was only natural after they started their own family that they'd make the yearly 14-hour pilgrimage from Ohio to Massachusetts with their three daughters (and sometimes a few pets too) packed ever-so-precisely (and sometimes precariously) in the family car.

I learned from an early age that there are two Cape Cods: one in the off-season and one in the tourist season. The tourist season means the Cape is stunning and the temperature is high, but so are the prices. The off-season holds the same amount of beauty (if not more so because there's no traffic and the beaches are empty), but the prices are drastically reduced. In both seasons, it should be noted, the water is freezing.

I love being able to see both Cape Cods: the Cape Cod where childhood memories are made and honeymoons are taken, and the Cape Cod where wonderfully quirky people live all year-round. And now that I'm a "year-rounder" too, I get to watch the sea change that happens between the seasons.

The little village Tim and I live in is mostly a tourist town. When we walk down to the water at night, only 1 out of every 4 houses we pass will have lights on inside during the winter. The docks at the end of our street (have I mentioned our street runs into the water?) are empty and we can see clearly to the horizon.

But come late spring and summer? The front porch lights turn on and the boats arrive. And instead of seeing clearly to the horizon, we see sail boats outlined by the setting sun.

Either way, it's definitely not a bad deal for us. The tranquility and slumber of the off-season are comforting and familiar. But the activity and energy of the tourist season are exciting and contagious. And no matter where we look the stark beauty of the Cape surrounds us...even when a few million other people surround us too.