TIME OUT

Written 1/23/10

The big gray and white gambrel, nobly guarding the mouth of the cove where it enters Onset Bay, rises in sun dappled majesty on the grassy knoll. Its quiet splendor is in sharp contrast to the demanding squawks from the small  gull on the pavement next to my car. I wish I had some food to quiet his hunger. The dock  is barren; it’s pilings rising from the water untethered. Mounds of sea grass glimmer golden on the sun drenched sand. The path of sunlight on the barely moving water is almost blinding as it shimmers and ripples.

A lone sail boat is moored in the cove as if guarding its entrance. Down cove, empty moorings are still, the sandy shores are vacant and distant houses sit silently on their waterfront shores. A woman walking the beach passes, crows caw, water shimmers, sea grass glimmers and my world is calm. Time slows as it passes in sync with the current flowing gently. Two crows take flight, playfully joisting over the cove as they go from one shore to the other. A swan rounds the tip of Shell Point and passes by for a leisurely swim toward the Agawam River.

What a treat, this time out in my Saturday. I’m infused with the energy of nature’s finest to spur me on through those waiting supermarket isles, but I’ll now be pushing that shopping cart with a blanket of serenity to insulate me from the bustling chores of weekending. How lucky am I?

CAPE COD CANAL

Written 1/13/10

Shedding off the confines of cabin fever, I turn right on Academy Road in Bourne and follow it to the south end of the Cape Cod Canal down by Mass Maritime, in search of open space, fresh air and natural beauty.  Winter time now, the Canal is empty of boats, except for the old red Tug that’s tied up at the school’s pier. The skies above the canal are where the action is; an open playground for sea birds in flight. Small and black, flocked together they head east, and then turn left on their U turn back to where they began.  Another flock races past the first and it looks a little competitive.  They remind me of children running on an open field, with no boundaries to stop them, just space that gives them the joy and freedom to be as they are.

 In the fertile waters of the canal in front of me, geese dive head first after a frantic paddle to their next meal.  Almost vertical, one appears to be jet propelled as he races on the surface, and then nose dives to his catch below.  Appearing to be out for a leisurely afternoon fly, a gull swoops and dips over the sun drenched, shimmering waters.

 The Railroad Bridge down the canal is raised and inactive.  The dinner train doesn’t run in the winter and it’s not yet time for the trains hauling trash off Cape to pass over the water.  The American Flag perched dead center on the top span is erect, the flag waving proudly.  It appears too small though, in comparison to the ornate turrets atop each pillar.  Below, the sea birds congregate knowing they have the right of way without interruption from trains not yet here.  The Bourne Bridge looms large in the distance beyond the Railroad Bridge.  Centered perfectly further down the canal, its familiar arch gently shadows the traffic underneath as it opens the way onto the Cape.  A fishing boat suddenly appears beyond the RR Bridge, alone - setting its course toward the sea.  The birds scattered, but go back to their place beneath the bridge now that the boat’s wake has rippled into nothingness. 

 As I look at the scene once more  and watch the graceful seagulls covering vast expanses of sky and those in the waters just sunning, swimming and fishing, I’m left with the feeling of freedom.  The view speaks of openness; time and space without limits.  With a knowing that possibilities are as endless as the skies above and the waters below, it tells of time that has no end and space that has no border. It’s as unlimited as those Sea Birds’ choices; to go as far or stay as close they want. The sky is the limit and the choice is theirs –  just as it is mine.

SUNSET COVE

Written 9/1/09

The calm is what strikes me after sitting here for a minute.  The only disruption is the constant noise from a cricket hiding somewhere to my right and the occasional squawking from a gull on the beach below this grassy knoll.  The water is calm except for the gentle current of the Agawam River as it meets the Bay.   The beach is free of waves as the tide slowly recedes.  Several gulls are combing the sands for a snack, only to cry with disappointment at their fruitless search.  The sky is clear with elongated light gray clouds that lay low above the trees across the cove.  A big black crow caws in the tree next to me and dog barks in answer from the confines of his house.  A gentle breeze stirs the small American flag secured to a boat moored in front of me.  I notice small channels of shallow water in the sand, left there by the shrinking tide.  So much activity, yet total peace pervades.  Familiar sounds lend ambience; sounds I often miss or dismiss in my busyness. A young boy on the beach contributes to the scene; first banging a rock on a concrete drain pipe peaking out from the sand, then in boredom; throwing the rock into the water.  A few brave gulls now stand in the water – so still – like hesitant waders, treading slowly into the cold.

My lunch time is over now but I’ll bring the peace of this time back to work with me for a good measure of serenity to the rest of my day.