Dunes

On the Dunes

If there is any life when death is over,

These tawny beaches will know much of me,

I shall come back, as constant and as changeful

As the unchanging, many-colored sea

If life was small, if it has made me scornful,

Forgive me; I shall straighten life a flame

In the great calm of death, and if you want me

Stand on the sea-ward dunes and call my name.

By Sara Teasdale

I really do wonder about life after death. Is there such a thing? Are we simply crazy to even contemplate it? Is there a heaven? If so, do we get to sit on fluffy clouds and float around all day? In life, I usually like to know where I'm heading. It gives me peace. It provides comfort. Not so in this case. It makes me restless. Late on warm summer nights, I still stare off to the heavens and look for Stephen. I like to wonder.

Yellow Hydrant

We're off to the beach! It's always fun to head to the water out of season. March is a marvelous time to venture there. The side streets are deserted, storefronts covered, cottages still boarded up, just a few bodies moving along the water's edge. Saturday, Elenka and I headed to Old Orchard Beach for a slice of Lisa's Pizza and a big box of french fries. We weren't disappointed. Hey, you've got to do something to survive the month of March around here.

Theme Day: Perspective

"I went to a restaurant that advertised breakfast anytime, so I ordered French Toast in the Renaissance." -Steven Wright

Today, September 1, 2011, is Theme Day across the CDPB (citydailyphotoblog) community.

Now, I'm just sayin'...

I'm sitting here at Willard Beach and just taking in the SIGHTS and sounds of a late summer afternoon. I'm kicking back to the Kinks on my iPod. Perspective? It's really in the EYE of the beholder. What might be INTERESTING to one, might(?) bore another. Everything, in life, depends on your reference point. If you never look up, you might not ever realize that you are nowhere near the mountain top. Here's what amazing me. This blonde sitting in her chair, enraptured by her trashy summer novel is but 10 feet away from me here in the sunshine. So close, I can almost peer into her dreams, but yet, she's a million miles away from my world. I'll never hear her voice, never know her name, never come close to ever, ever seeing her again. It's like I'm amazed glancing out a bus window while traveling through Times Square and seeing the endless streams of faces, all in their own orbits, all within their own lives, with their own families and their millions of unique stories. Simple moments sometimes stop me in my tracks! So where ever you find yourself today... enjoy the VIEW!

Capt. Billy

Some might call these skiffs. Some might call them dories. Still others lacking nautical history and knowledge, like myself, might just call them rowboats. They were scattered about at varies locations on the shore of Willard Beach the other day. Mom would often pack our creme and red Chevy station wagon with us and our pals and head here on sweltering July days. While most of my friends loved to go to various lakes in the area, her wagon always set a course for the ocean. The beach is small confined on the left by the large rocks and the old Fort Preble and on the far right by the abandoned fishing shacks sitting high on a bluff. The water here was always freezing cold, as I remember, but heck it was the beach; it was wicked hot and there were a million things to do and explore with your friends. And that all usually happened before Mom opened the cooler and dragged out her egg salad sandwiches. They were a staple of our sojourns to the beach, but with one gust of wind, we were all crunching away with our sand-crusted meal. One question still lingers... Mom, with so many other of your culinary delights that you could put together for a day at the ocean, why the egg salad? For pete sakes, egg salad? Maybe my sisters or Capt. Billy have the answer to this one. My brother? Nope... PB&J. I'm baffled!

Beach Puzzle

Here are some rocks along the beach at Peaks Island. During those cold winters nights around the kitchen wood stove, when the games of Old Maid, Crazy Eights and Gin Rummy got old, Mom pulled out her boxes of Jigsaw puzzles. She had about ten boxes hidden away in the dining room closet. One was an image of horses gallivanting around in a corral, another was of an old covered bridge in fall, still one more was of a snow-covered mountain top scene.When she tired of them, she traded with her friends or bought one or two cheap at a church rummage sale. We all enjoyed doing puzzles. Four kids gathered around a tippy card table made frigid nights go fast, and she got the job done. She kept us quiet and entertained for hours. I'll not forget those fun-filled evenings.
Life's a puzzle. Put it together!

Beach#6

Willard and Cresent beaches in the summer and during the winter the expanse of open water of Old Orchard Beach are places that bring forth solace and creativity into my life. Whether it's the solitude of the empty beach with pounding surf in the winter months or the relatively uncrowded warm sand of July, they can both set the mind at ease and rejuvenate the spirit. Both of these times and locals conjurer up fine memories too- our January trips to icy Kettle Cove in the station wagon and Dad's wild tales of pirates and buried treasures or Mom's egg salad sandwiches with that slight hint of sand at Willard on our summer sojourns there. Now that I think about it, I shouldn't be surprised at all that these sites along the coast bring forth such feelings. The mind does amazing things, when we just sit back and let it work.

Cottage Shade

Here's a beach-side cottage window doing its best to reflect back a bit of the passing parade. Having survived the winter, but not yet open for inhabiting, I find the these places somewhat depressing against a cold wind. Fast forward to July, and it'll be a beehive of nonstop comings and goings. Never had a 'summer home', camp or cottage. Elenka, one practical cat, always said, "Why? We're so close to everything. A place on a lake or pond, an hour away? The ocean, even less driving time then that. Does it really make sense?" See what I mean? And of course, at this point on 'the journey'... the upkeep? As I've always said to those who might listen, we make quite a team.

Ocean Pier

Opened on July 2, 1898, the Pier at Old Orchard Beach and and Ballroom at the end had its hay-day in the 1940s with the likes of Frank Sinatra, Xavier Cugat and Benny Goodman performing there. Over the years, fires and fierce storms did great damage to the original structure. I do remember in the 70s, one last big fire reeked quite a bit of destruction(including one of my favorite rides the Jack and Jill Slide), and in 1978, a blizzard destroyed what was left of the Pier. Rebuilt and reopened in 1980, the Pier juts again out into the Atlantic and draws many summer tourists to its shops and restaurants. These days, most summer days and nights are too frantic for me here. I do so enjoy this deserted beach during winter though. Come January, It'll be me, a few gulls, a hauntingly empty Palace Playland and lonely crashing waves. I'll enjoy that.

Beach Inn

Hope this doesn't throw off the Baby Brattcat. No, we're not in London anymore. We're on West Grand Avenue in OOB on a recent rainy morning. We're 60 feet from the Atlantic Ocean and 2 minutes from the shops and amusements rides at Palace Playland. On this gray covered-ceiling morning, this was the brightest articles in view. There must be a bit o' story involved in the title of this inn, but for now it's beyond me.

Four Chairs

As we head into September, summer's fading fast. Around here, the 90s of last week's heat wave are fast disappearing in our rear view mirror. The temps might entice us a bit with a couple of 80s, but in southern Maine you better be resigned to sunny days in the 70s(if you're lucky) and high 60s for awhile. If not, you're going to be disappointed. On the bright side, August was the tenth straight month of above average temperatures in this area of the state. We've had a GREAT stretch. And this shot...looks like the loneliness of a long distance wave.

Earl's Passing

Early Saturday morning in off and on rainy mist, Old Orchard Beach, near Atlantic Avenue, was hardly deserted. There were plenty of wave watchers, coffee drinkers and old men luggin' metal detectors, even at 6:45 AM. Earl was a dud, at least around here. Some rain, some wind and big, curling waves--- that was about it. The largest damage incurred was to local and cable weather anchors' fragile egos. I love it!

Beach Patrol

At Seaside Heights, NJ mid-week, it was free swimming, lifeguards on duty, no serious riptides and fireworks to end the day at 9 PM. Now, Maine beaches are still free all the time, and OOB has fireworks each Thursday, I believe. Free beaches in Maine-- 'The way life should be'.

Gone Fishing!

Not! I always get a kick out of the sign: "Gone Fishing", when I see it in a window. As if this is the ultimate, when it comes to relaxation. For me, getting up early when the house is still asleep and having a couple of hours to myself, heading off in my truck for a day of doing little and traveling nowhere, or sitting with a good book on a quiet beach somewhere--- these are my ideas of relaxing. Now, I love people and no one has ever accused me of not wanting to be the center of attention, but there are times where I have to just get away from it all. I think we all do. Today will not be one of them. We're off on an 'adventure' Downeast to Belfast. We'll do a restaurant or two, some art galleries, hit a thrift store and probably do some shopping. Oh, and take some pictures. The camera will be at the ready to document the day... my life in a day.

Fishermen's Shacks

Overlooking the beach at Willard, these weather-beaten shacks reappear each spring and just beg for some touch-up work. Can they get a witness? Off in the distance the beacon, Spring Point Light, looms.

Walkway

Just off of West Grand Avenue at Old Orchard Beach, this rising walkway heads to the water. These days, I love walking on an abandon beach this time of year. Back a few years for me, it was all about Noah's Ark, a large boat-shaped funhouse that rocked back and forth, while a loud, distorted loudspeaker blared and the infamous Jack and Jill Slide, where a wooden bucket would take you to the top of a a 50-foot tall tower on a hemp mat for a rocket-like ride down the metal slide. Once, I suffered quite a burn on my arm, when I was unlucky enough to have my arm touch the slide on the way down. Needless to say, it was a few years before OSHA. Today, they'd never let these rides 'survive' in this kid-cautious world we live in. Today, my 'ride' is just getting to the top of this rise and taking in the beauty of what's just beyond my reach.

Umbrella

Good Grief! Another late September beach day in Southern Maine? What gives? It just seems like we're getting payback for the miserable June and part of July. I thought I'd post this last summer-like shot of Willard Beach today and think a bit about strange coincidences of the human spirit. As you might remember from previous posts, while growing up, my Mom took us kids to Willard on countless occasions. I know it was one of her favorite locations near home and ocean-site of choice. When I finally met my sister D- on Monday evening, during dinner at the Saltwater Grill, she mentioned in passing that Willard was a beach that she and her family visited often too. It was a favorite of her mom and dad's also. This connection between our families was not lost on anyone at the table. Sometimes our lives work in small, mysterious, yet poignant ways.

Driftwood

As we age, it’s nice to see the course ahead, set sail and reach the appointed shore, but you know, driftwood might have it right. Almost endlessly bouncing around in deep water, taking risks, surviving pounding surf to settle on a peaceful beach... somewhere unknown. Got a good college friend who lives, now, outside ‘hot-lanta’. During our college years, when he would visit Portland, he always told me: “I like New England, and I like this city”. Be careful what you wish for-- After college in upstate New York, and some missions over ‘Nam, he got stationed at Loring Air Force Base in Limestone, Me, almost as far North as you can get in the state and not be steppin’ in Canada. Later he lived in Nashua, NH and in Amherst, MA. Is there a theme here? Can’t get out of New England? Oldest son, a doctor to be, married in Newport RI, interning in Boston. His youngest son, a pilot, recently got stationed in Maine... ya you guessed it- he’s living in Portland and flying out of Brunswick. Our lives, like driftwood, take many strange twists and turns, but as Mom always told me--- 'it all works out for the BEST'! Enjoy your life where ever it takes you--- today!