Monday, October 11, 2010

A Little Ocean Time

 We’ve just come back from a weekend spent on Cape Cod.  I love our farm but it’s far from the Atlantic Ocean that I find irresistible and actually need to go visit occasionally to rejuvenate.  Having grown up not far from the ocean I miss not being able to hop in the car and take a ride to the beach anytime the mood strikes me.

This weekend I walked barefoot along the shore, the wet sand beneath my feet squishing up between toes.  I helped the grandkids build sandcastles and search for shells and special rocks, and afterwards we rolled up our pants to play tag with the rolling surf.  The ocean was wild with a strong breeze whipping the waves into whitecaps and, as always, it was invigorating to watch this picturesque immensity and feel the salty air all around me.  Walking along the beach put me in mind of my favorite Autumn poem, I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

by Jacqueline Bouvier

I love the Autumn,
And yet I cannot say
All the thoughts and things
That make one feel this way.
I love walking on the angry shore,
To watch the angry sea;
Where summer people were before,
But now there's only me.
I love wood fires at night
That have a ruddy glow.
I stare at the flames
And think of long ago.
I love the feeling down inside me
That says to run away
To come and be a gypsy
And laugh the gypsy way.
The tangy taste of apples,
The snowy mist at morn,
The wanderlust inside you
When you hear the huntsman's horn.
Nostalgia - that's the Autumn,
Dreaming through September
Just a million lovely things I always will remember.

Of course, the only thing missing from my weekend was my horse. It would have been a complete experience to be able to walk alongside my horse on the beach, leaving hoofprints beside my footprints!
"This bird hovered directly over my head for quite a while and posed for the camera"     

 Until next time

Quote for Today

Now the great winds shoreward blow
Now the salt tides seaward flow
Now the wild white horses play
Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.
    - Mathew Arnold

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