Tag: beach

Life Topics

The Porch

Jo Toale

The Craftsmen style porch is solid and new with the signature Cape Cod shakes on the outside and fresh white trim. Rocking chairs as well as overstuffed chairs line the inside making it an extension of this comfortable beach house.  I move a rocking chair to the top of the porch steps to get a better view of the street and slowly rock. The neighborhood is still asleep.  I had figured out how to use the coffee machine when I got up, so a warm mug was my companion.  Sipping hot hazelnut coffee, I entertain random thoughts and quirky ideas that I seldom have the luxury to do.   There’s nothing on the schedule today.   To my left, the sun slowly arcs upward as I watch it momentarily rest behind a tree.  A little further away, I can hear crashing waves and cawing gulls at the shoreline.  We are only a short sandy block from the ocean. Dave and Jayne are out early for their daily beach stroll.   It is 5:30am and I’m enjoying this alone time rapt in thought and sunshine.

We were excited to get away.  We had been to Dave and Jayne’s a few times, but this was the first time this summer.  We don’t often see them, except for a few get-togethers here and there.  They invited us for a couple of days of total relaxation and friendship.  We took off on a Thursday making it a quick 2-hour ride without the mangled weekend Cape traffic.  As we approached Thomas Avenue at 3pm, we could see beachgoers walking home along the main road.  They looked tired and tanned, lugging chairs, bags, and kids.  The salty breeze and a hint of sunscreen wafted into our open car windows.  We had arrived.  We turned onto Thomas and saw Dave’s dark blue car parked in front.

From the driveway, we couldn’t believe our eyes.  They had renovated, adding a new front porch.  Their house looked totally different.  The cedar shakes, bright trim and thick columns welcomed you from the street.  The house was transformed from a bland façade to a bonified classic beach house.  We were met at the back door by Dave and Jayne, where they greeted us with hugs as they ushered us in.  Jayne was preparing an early dinner of seafood for Dave to grill when ready.   Jamie and I went outside with Dave to have drinks on the porch before dinner.  I was immediately hooked.  This new space was bright with wide plank floors and a high roof.  To me, it felt alive with a gentle breeze, muted street noises and glowing sunshine.  I found my happy place for the visit.

From that point on, the porch was our coveted gathering spot.  Coffee in the morning, relaxing after the beach, drinks before dinner, nightcap at bedtime.  We only slept in the house.  All our waking hours were spent either at the beach or talking for hours on the porch.  We drove into town for dinner one night having pizza and ice cream, then walked around the historic picturesque harbor.   The evening was bustling with excited tourists and townies alike.  Jayne and I found an old bench along the winding harbor walkway to finish our ice cream and people watch for a few minutes, while Dave and Jamie talked under a nearby tree.  I would jump up to scratch a cute dog every so often, as I am weirdly obsessed with dogs.  Finishing our ice cream, we meandered a few blocks back to the car, and eventually back to our anchor – the front porch.

We bonded over a couple of days, sharing stories and experiences all while feeling the salt air on our skin and the warm ocean breeze in our hair.  Sitting in comfy chairs, the dim porch light above created an intimate setting to unwind, tell truths, and laugh uncontrollably.  It’s not easy to find friends and we were all silently comforted by our long-time commitment to each other and the joy of spending time together.  I’m convinced that a house isn’t a home without a unique place within it to bring the people you love.  In this case, it was that wonderful pristine new porch.  Dave and Jayne confessed that they hardly used the porch before we came, but might start now.  They may have realized, through outside eyes, how warm memories can continue to be created here.  A special place that makes your heart grow fonder.

Life Topics

A Day at the Beach

Jo Toale

We lugged all the beach gear from the trunk of the car, moving away from the hot concrete parking lot toward the sandy shore, a brilliant horizon of blue with white.  Bright colored striped chairs, thirsty towels, and a comfortable blanket under arms, over shoulders and falling from our grips.  Willing our feet toward the edge of the ocean we looked for a blank spot to set up homebase.  Near the hungry wandering seagulls and children playing became our nirvana, enough room to spread out.  Unfolding our accessories and taking off our shoes was a good place to start, a little sandy real estate to call home for the remainder of the day.  The sun was leaning west in the late afternoon, but the warmth was strong and comforting.  We had to shift our chairs to face toward the skewed rays, which put us in a line, not optimal for conversation.

After setting up camp, we decided that a cool swim was in order.  One by one we meandered toward the shore, as the breaking waves brought in little pieces of deep green seaweed.  At first it was a shock to feel the cold-water wash over our feet and shins, moving rhythmically over our shivering legs.  The ocean made a lulling whoosh sound coupled with the background din of the gulls screaming. We noticed parents bobbing around with their children, lifeguards gazing at nothing, and overweight women squeezed into bakinis walking the beach.  Turning to the deeper water, we all bravely dove in, in an effort to acclimate to the water temperature.   One person jumped right in after the count of three.  The rest of us splashed water on our arms and thighs before taking the plunge.

We floated weightless over the continuous breaking waves feeling a kind of freedom from our bodies.  We laugh, played, and felt happy to be with each other.  The cold water we originally walked into turned into warm bath water the longer we stayed in.  A sandbar 200 feet from shore brought us back to chest high water as I felt safer with the velvety sand under foot.   I kept my head above water not wanting to wet my hair, while still being playful.  We threw seaweed at each other and talked about nonsense.  Everyone was enjoying this escape from the hot summer day.  No one wanted to get out of the water, hanging on until the next big wave.

We will have a lifetime of days at the beach, but this one was special.  Sitting in my sand chair after the swim I felt completely content.  Two laid on the beach blanket on their bellies trying to tan their backs; one reading and one sleeping.  Two behind me, eyes closed,  silently facing the western rays for the late summer exposure.  I spent a few moments sunning myself, then put on my sweatshirt covering my burnt shoulders as I turned my chair.  I people watched for a while, then lovingly looked at my family that surrounded me.  Every one of them means the world to me.  I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.   My quiet observation brought me to a place of solitude and peace.  We chose to be here with each other, and that was enough for me.

 

Life Topics

A Great Escape

Jo Toale

Leaving the Cape successfully takes an act of God combined with a little fortune telling, and some traffic savvy.  Let’s take a look at a typical scenario.  You’ve had a great weekend with a lot of beach time resulting in sand in your swimsuit bottoms, burnt face and shins, and a little dehydration.  Still you’re having a good time.  You enjoyed a few fancy dinners in a well-lit tourist café with a French name, probably in Hyannis.  You succumbed to the lure of the $6 Cape Cod T-shirts (2 for $10).  You reluctantly played miniature golf at one of the hundreds of courses avoiding the windmill traps, followed by an over-priced ice cream cone at the Four Seas.  Unfortunately, there was no time to catch a Cape League baseball game.  Maybe next time.   Then you’re forced to start thinking about leaving because playtime is almost over.  0-dark-30 is fast approaching where you should have a plan and some fortitude to get off Cape in a relatively quick fashion.

What was my last Cape visit like?  It was somewhat uneventful and unlike the tourist experience. I was visiting my parents and my sister who live in the heart of the Cape.  We don’t usually do tourist stuff, except maybe the beach.  The residents put up with the swollen summer population and the choked streets.  Anyway, I ventured down there late on a Wednesday night and stayed through the weekend.  I worked remotely from Hyannis and overpacked, bringing an overnight bag, beach bag, computer bag, and my dog McDermott, although he wasn’t packed. I decided to go to the beach every morning allowing me some “me-time” to relax and regroup before starting work.

With my toes in the sand and my eyes fixed on the horizon I felt at peace.  I set off by 7:30am each morning, when there were very few worshipers.  I basically had the whole stretch to myself.  Slowly people arrived, an elderly woman in a sand chair with a book, a Latino family of five frolicking in the waves, and a couple of baby-boomers under an umbrella.  It was kind of fun to be a voyeur between salty dips in the water and roasting in the sun.  I can be nosey that way.

However, Saturday night I had to start thinking about what time to leave the next day.  So, I play this imaginary game with myself.  My theory is people will prolong their weekend if they can have another nice beach day; maybe they leave early evening.  Therefore, I can escape on a sunny Sunday morning without too much traffic.   On a dismal day, people will start their trek home early.  No sun, no beach. So, I would stay put and leave later in the day.  So far, I’ve proven this assumption about 80% of the time.  The odds are with me, right?  Wrong.

After having breakfast out with my sister on a gloriously hot Sunday morning I felt like it was time to leave.  The warm sandy beaches would be packed I thought.  Plus I was anxious to get home to end
the weekend with my partner.  So, I no sooner paid the check, and I was packing my car.  The plan was to say my goodbyes, get McDermott in the car, stop at Dunkin’s for a large ice coffee black and sail home. I hoped that the Route 6 runway to the bridge would be clear and uncongested.  I entered the on-ramp with blind faith, a full tank of gas, air-conditioner blasting and a full playlist.  I was ready for anything.

Everything started out fine.  But a couple of miles into the journey the traffic went from a bit sluggish to a full stop; an endless parking lot as far as the eye could see.  Cars jostled between lanes to get inches closer.  I couldn’t help noticing a sign on the side of the road that said, “Evacuation Route”.  It struck me as ironic because there was no way Route 6 could evacuate all the residents at the same time.  Expelling the weekend’s first shift of visitors was clogging the road, never mind adding a whole population.  My brilliant theory was losing ground, and I thought I was being extremely clever.  Sitting there, I felt like I was aging in dog years.  My patience was draining as I sucked on my green spearmint vape and exhaled a cloud of contempt.

I sang along with the music, checked McDermott in the rear-view mirror, thought about the weekend and gazed ahead at the chain of multicolored car roofs that rose up the hill in front of me.  Is going to the Cape worth the hassle?  I think so.  Getting there and crossing the bridge transforms you.  The salt in the air relaxes you causing a comforting lull in your mind.  All worry and concern dissipate the closer you get to the shore.  And when there, you can soak in the many sights, sounds, and smells of the beach, the delicious fresh seafood and the friendly and colorful merchants.  It’s an exquisite place to lose yourself.  In the grand scheme, miscalculating traffic upon your departure is not fatal, only a minor annoyance.   Afterall, think about all the precious memories arranged in your bags to be slowly unpacked when you finally get home.