Delightful sights along the beach | Home Again

Jul 01, 2019

The first day of summer I walked along the beach at Brackett’s Landing, just north of the ferry dock. It was not warm that early afternoon, but people who love the beach choose to hang out at the water’s edge even when it’s chilly.

And why pass up the opportunity to visit the waterfront on the first day of summer?

Do I ever go to the beach when I don’t see people of all ages? I don’t think so. I love that about our waterfront. All ages walking. Family groups. Kids.

One of my favorite twosomes that day was a grandpa carrying a baby boy, perhaps 6 months old. The little guy, blue eyes round with wonder, clutched his grandpa’s collar with his little fist as the man slowly turned, pointing one way and then another, speaking softly in the baby’s ear.

The grandma walked nearby, taking photos with her cellphone.

As I always do, I walked to the end of the spit, site of that long-gone boathouse, and turned to look up at the houses along Sunset Avenue, attempting to spot the two-story house my family rented for a short time when I was a teen-ager.

Sometimes I think I can identify the house, though if so, it looks much different now. Often I give up, guessing the house has been demolished in the name of progress and replaced by something built to a different scale, different trends, and different budget.

Walking back from the end of the spit toward the sidewalk bordering the beach, I stopped to speak with a young diver. He said his name was AJ, that he was 12, and that he was preparing for his final dive to earn his certification.

He said that the gear was heavy, but his spirits obviously were light. I didn’t meet anyone else in his family, but AJ said several family members shared the sport.

Another weekend observation?

I sat reading on my deck one afternoon and heard the sound of loud laughter. I looked over my deck railing and saw a man standing behind the condo building, several units away from mine, amid a squadron of crash-landed paper airplanes. He was laughing, and so were the young boys on a deck a floor or two above him.

I don’t know whether the boys were trying to land the planes within a certain area or whether the man was supposed to catch them. It didn’t matter, did it? It was simply great family fun, wholesome play, flying a big batch of paper airplanes and sharing laughter.

The next day, at the waterfront again, I walked toward the bulkhead adjacent to the fishing pier.

Suddenly, an iridescent shape appeared just over my head. A man stood near the bulkhead with a bucket and what appeared from a distance to be two long sticks. He was creating huge, oddly shaped bubbles that floated overhead, flocks of oval or cloud-shaped puffs blowing eastward from the beach.

A few children dashed after the bubbles, laughing, jumping as high as they could, attempting to touch the iridescent shapes as they floated along, mostly out of reach.

It was a pleasure to witness their play – and the man’s enjoyment, as people of all ages stopped along the walkway to watch the show.

I think my weekend observations pleased me because they illustrated connections – to nature, to the sea, to family, to wonderment – and to the beginning of summer.


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