She said this about Provincetown: “I too fell in love with the town, that marvelous convergence of land and water; Mediterranean light; fishermen who made their living by hard and difficult work from frighteningly small boats; and, both residents and sometime visitors, the many artists and writers.[…] M. and I decided to stay.”

Mary Oliver’s poetry is grounded in memories of Ohio and her adopted home of New England, setting most of her poetry in and around Provincetown after she moved there in the 1960s. Influenced by both Whitman and Thoreau, she is known for her clear and poignant observances of the natural world. In fact, according to the 1983 Chronology of American Literature, the “American Primitive,” one of Oliver’s collection of poems, “…presents a new kind of Romanticism that refuses to acknowledge boundaries between nature and the observing self.” Her creativity was stirred by nature, and Oliver, an avid walker, often pursued inspiration on foot. Her poems are filled with imagery from her daily walks near her home: shore birds, water snakes, the phases of the moon and humpback whales. In Long life she says “[I] go off to my woods, my ponds, my sun-filled harbor, no more than a blue comma on the map of the world but, to me, the emblem of everything.” She commented in a rare interview “When things are going well, you know, the walk does not get rapid or get anywhere: I finally just stop, and write. That’s a successful walk!” She said that she once found herself walking in the woods with no pen and later hid pencils in the trees so she would never be stuck in that place again. Maxine Kumin called Oliver “a patroller of wetlands in the same way that Thoreau was an inspector of snowstorms.” (Wikipedia)