Drawn to the Sea

I am drawn to the sounds, smells and seclusion of the sea. At the sea's edge, I wander for hours taking pictures, kicking sand and watching waves roll in from somewhere out in the expansive heather-gray pond. The clapping of the waves, squawking of the occasional gull and whisper of the sand skipping through clumps of tall grass instantly remind me where I am when I close my eyes.

I could never live in Denver or Austin. Sure they each have their advantages: the dramatic Rockies border Denver's backyard and Austin gets 300 days of sun per year. Despite these incentives, I would rather live in a cold, rainy place where I could go walk along the ocean each day and listen to the sea slap against the shore and smell the bitter scent of salt in stagnant tidepools. In my free time, I often drive to the sea, even for just an hour or two, to meander the shore.

My favorite sign, Owl's Head state park.

An oil shed on Pemaquid Point.

A sunset Down East.

Ernie looking for footing on the a rugged point in Owl's Head state park.

A granite beach in Bass Harbor.

Dogs know the sea is playful. They run feverishly to and fro, chasing other dogs and kicking up sand in their wake like jet contrails in the sky. I try my best to follow suit.