I love the beach at this time of year. Gone are the flocks of tourists, vying for parking, for the best place for their beach tent, their cooler and ample supplies, a campsite in itself.
Gone is the summer heat, the layers of suntan lotion, that sticky feeling of the ocean salt on your skin, the beach blanket jungle.
The beach is quiet now, aside from the gulls’ screech and the occasional dog woof; dogs are legal on our beach again, trotting along by their Alpha person, worshipful looks in their eyes.
Now is the time for the migrating ocean and beach birds.
Walking our beach in the morning crispness dozens and dozens of semipalmated plovers raced up the beach to the seaweed line, then scampered back to the ocean edge, pecking at their nearly invisible breakfasts.
An angry gull, hunched over, neck stretched, bill open, bullied gulls about it, while guarding some edible treasure.
Our beach is bowl shaped now, at least at the southern end of the beach, perhaps because of a storm a few days ago; this is the shape of the winter beach, formed by stronger waves, and naturally protective of the land.
A bowl shaped beach will break the storm surf, protecting land structures; nature’s way of keeping her land safe from harm.
This is the time to head to the beach, feel its more peaceful beauty, and relax into the day.
You owe it to yourself.