Most important is the sea and a beach empty of people. Shorebirds wheel in the far distance trailing their shadows along the shoreline. The haze at the horizon suggests gannets or scoters tumbling into themselves above the breakers. Somewhere behind is the dune forest with its hollies and bayberries. The autumn sun vaguely warms the chilly salt air; you wish for another layer but the car is too far off to go back. A walk along the shore is a sustaining ritual for many. The elemental beauty of the sea’s edge captivates the newcomer just as readily as it attaches itself to the memory of those of us who call it home.
Someday soon I’ll be in the mood to share pics and tell stories, but for the moment I’m caught in that melancholy state of post-vacation-let-down.
I understand. Laura, take your time and enjoy your homecoming…your family missed you :o)
You write so well. You need to publish a book.
Glad your safely home.
Sharing those same feelings over here, Laura. So much happened that it’s hard to put it all down into words and images.
Same here – hard to organize all those photos and thoughts, so I’m spending my time reading all of the other Cape May bloggers’ posts first.
It was great spending time with you!
Shadows on the surf,
reflections on the wet sand:
black skimmers.
Mary: Right. Maybe if I repeat it enough times, I’ll believe it. “I’m glad to be home- I’m glad to be home.”
😉
Jean: Thanks.
Delia: It does have a way of getting under your skin, doesn’t it?
Susan: Yes, it was! I look forward to more of your pics and hope that you had a good time.
Dave: Thanks for the visit and the haiku. Guess you’ve been to Cape May to see the skimmers also.
If I didn’t have the “I just drove 12 hours” crankies, I would have the post-trip blues, too.
Susan: You’ll come back someday won’t you? Maybe fly into Newark next time and see the NJ everyone makes fun of?