Beach Trip Wraps Up Summer --

I had a very nice several days at Fort Morgan in Gulf Shores, Alabama. What a lovely and friendly area it is. A particularly delightful place where we got some wonderful food was King Neptune on Route 59; the staff was chatty and the restaurant and bar were cozy and neighborly. The charming rental house is on a secluded section of the beach at historic Fort Morgan. Except for an occasional person walking his or her dog in the evening, the beach was unpopulated (the way I like it). Early morning dawned on a beautiful, shimmering sea. As the tide came in, waves hurled themselves against the shore, as they've done for eons. Mesmerizing. I could watch and listen forever.

Interestingly, on the drive home (I drove the ten hours straight through to the beach and, again, when heading homeward), we encountered a weird situation somewhere in central-to-northern Alabama. It persisted over an approximate 100-mile area: Bugs! Clouds of these weird bugs began pelting the truck. They were skinny dark brown bugs with pinchers. I had to stop at a rest area to try and clean them off the windshield. I had plenty of company, as the other drivers were trying to clear their windshields, as well. While we did so, swarms were landing all around us and we discovered that these bugs would bite. As mysteriously as we drove into the bugs' turf, we eventually drove out of it and into a monsoon rain which finished cleansing the truck's windows, hood, and grill.

While at the beach, my asthma was completely gone; it returned somewhere in the Chattanooga area. Those healing ocean ions have amazing power.

Well, now, summer has ended and autumn is officially here. Soon it will be time to bring the houseplants indoors. On the autumnal equinox we had equal hours of daylight and darkness and now we march forward each day into earlier and deepening nightfall. Eternal, the rolling cadence of time ... and the mysterious and mystical ocean.

Sweet Home (away from home) Alabama –

Soon, soon, soon!

These days I remind Dixie Lee that she will again be a "beach doggie"! I’m so looking forward to my pilgrimage to the beach. I am needing the healing energy and wonderful ions of the surf, the visual connection to the rest of the Universe, as I gaze at the vanishing point on the horizon, where the water meets the sky. I’m especially fond of the early mornings there and I love to greet the day at the ocean’s edge.
　

Come To The Sea

The Italian folk song, Come To The Sea, has been very much on my mind in recent days and weeks. It’s a delightful melody and is on page 36 of the sequential music book I use for my beginning piano students.

The lure of the sea is something I grapple with on a rather consistent basis. I mean, I grew up in a Connecticut town where the beach was 30 minutes away from my house; for the past 20 years I’ve lived in land-locked Knoxville, Tennessee.

I had last driven to the South Carolina coast in August of 2002. I was traveling alone, so it was a majorly grueling drive, with two brief gasoline and restroom stops, and dining on bottled water, bananas, and crackers while behind the wheel. It felt like a magnet was drawing me along the road. Still, it took almost nine hours to get to my hotel destination at Surfside Beach. When the ocean came into view, I was ecstatic, even though exhausted.

This time, I had reserved a house (on the beach) back in June. This past week, all arrangements carefully having been made, I made the trip again. During this trip I was accompanied by Jerry and my dog Dixie. Poor Lance (my truck...please see earlier posts) had to stay home, as he’s now quite elderly and it wouldn’t have been wise to put him to that test again, so I rented an SUV. It was a 2007 Chrysler Aspen (very nice). I did all the driving, while Jerry helped with the navigating and road sign alerts; also, he paid for the gasoline, which was a big help. Dixie lounged in the back seat, tethered with her car restraint harness, but very comfortable for the most part. This time there were three brief stops and then a bit of confusion toward the end of the journey, due to some unnecessary route numbers that had been inserted by both Mapquest and Yahoo computer maps (on the way back home, I just followed the traditional paper map and there was no confusion).

Eventually, when my last nerve felt about to be shredded, there it was: the vista of the ocean and my beach house!

Someone once told me that he was terrified of the sea because it is so "hungry". There is no argument that the sea is relentless. I think that’s what I admire most about it. It is so purposeful. That steady roar of the surf is music to my ears – at once, lilting ... and fearsome. I well understand the emotion behind stories told and written about the sea, over the centuries. The sea encompasses every possible mood from blissful little ripples as the smaller waves break on the beach during low tide ... to the absolute fury of the incoming tide. At all moments, it is full of power, wonderful ions, mystery, and the secrets of life.

I had wondered how Dixie would behave in an unfamiliar house and with the constant sound of waves rolling in, particularly after such a long car ride. I’d wondered if she would panic at the sight of the ocean. She is a remarkably intelligent dog (as a visit to my website will reveal to you) and she adapted very well from moment one. She accompanied me into the water, though rather gingerly. She was especially interested in the sensation one feels when an incoming wave comes onto the sand and then recedes, pulling the sand out from under human or animal’s feet. It didn’t seem to unsettle her as much as it intrigued her.

The ocean did weave its spell on me again, wrapping me fully in its cloak of energy and reaffirmation. Its music still plays in my head. Now, back at home, my piano echoes the sentiment: Come to the sea. Come to the sea.