Last night’s sunset was so sweet that I can still feel the savory tingle the colors left on my tongue. I rise this morning to the ocean’s breeze coming in softly through the large deck doors as the coffee brews.
Today I will do as the locals do, and just hang out in Menemsha.
Let’s start with a morning walk along the country roads, observing the work routines of farm houses getting the land ready for Summer. I find a path through the bramble and thicket that seems to wind it’s way down the cliffside. Eventually I come to the Atlantic ocean.
Lobster traps lay littered along the shore, not abandoned but lying in wait to be used once again when the owner’s are hungry. A canoe is safely tucked against the lee of a large stone so that the incoming tide doesn’t take the boat out to sea.
I carry onward until I eventually arrive to the small harbor in town. A couple of local fish markets are here, and so I see what fish specials are on the menu for today, solely based upon the luck the hearty fisherman had earlier in the day.
I get lucky, and stock up on clams, chowder, and a lobster roll.
Shopping for food one day at a time seems to work out well for me here. You never really know what one may be feeling one day to the next. I take my brown paper bag full of ocean goodness and start the long walk back to the cottage. I stroll along next to mossy stone walls that remind me of my first trip to Boston a little over ten years ago.
A tire swing is slowly swaying back and forth as I pass it by. Being pushed only by a ghostly breeze, I capture the movement as a woman comes across my path.
“Lovely day isn’t it. Mind if I ask what you are taking a picture of?”
I tell her that the tire swing reminds me of a happy childhood memory. She smiles warmly and wishes me well. The dark clouds that bring promise of rain are starting to become prominent in the skies above.
The winds pick up as I enter the cottage. I start preparations for lunch as the rain starts to fall. Time to gather some wood, as I’ll need a fire later tonight.