New England Beach

Cool water washing over my feet, deep enough to get my ankles - and my insufficiently rolled-up pants - wet. Cottony clouds crossing a deep blue sky. Sailboats off in the distance. A belly full of fried clams. I must be at the beach.

In my post from last week, I told you all about the greatest fried clams in the universe, from the Clam Box. Well we didn't drive all the way to Ipswich just to eat clams (though that isn't out of the question). We also wanted to get to the beach one last time while it was still warm. Crane Beach, about 30 miles north of Boston (and even closer to the Clam Box), is a good choice. Soft white sand stretches far enough to make for a long walk along the surf. The post-Labor Day crowd was reasonably small, and it was prettily quiet with just the sound of the waves hitting the shore.

This was my view for a good couple of hours.

Since we have lived back within driving distance to the ocean, I am remembering why I fell in love with it in the first place. One main reason is the vastness of it all. Looking out at the ocean is like looking up at the stars in a moonless sky. The infinite spills out ahead of you, eliciting the feeling that anything is possible. I like that feeling.

I also like the sound and the rhythm -the regular rhythm of the waves on the sand.  Sure, up close the waves might act unpredictably, and I might get wet and cold when all I meant was to refresh my feet, but if I step back and just listen it all makes sense. The tide comes in, the tide rolls out. Children cry, birds squawk, teenagers squeal - but all the while the water keeps up that over-riding beat. That consistent crashing actually creates a sense of order for me.

My final ingredient for the beach is that it is best enjoyed with a friend. Marissa and I sat on our mat (the same mat that has been in our trunk for at least 15 years, and has come in handy countless times, like this one, for instance, when we forgot to bring our beach chairs) for hours, doing the Sunday crossword, napping, watching people and taking silly pictures of ourselves.

All of the above can be enjoyed immensely alone - even the silly pictures. But sharing it is even better.

Combine the feelings of limitless possibilities with order in the universe, mix in someone you love, top with a box of fried clams (optional) et voilà, you have the makings of a relaxing and rejuvenating experience. I don't know if we will always live within driving distance of the beach, but I sure hope so.