Ocean or Mountain

Sunset on LBI – Photo: L. Weikel

I guess you could say I’m lucky I don’t have to choose between living in the mountains or living near the ocean.

If pressed, I would probably make the argument that I live in the best of both worlds: gorgeous countryside with an abundance of trees, rolling hills, farmland, and a life’s blood of creeks and rivers interwoven throughout. So why should I choose when I can visit both?

Water, Solitude, and a Striking View

As many of you know, when not relishing the beauty of my own personal environment (such as I indulged in last week), I’ve spent a decent amount of time recently in the Blue Ridge portion of the Appalachians known as the Smokies. And I’ve waxed on about the intoxicating beauty of that area.

Today, however, I had a chance to put my feet back into the Atlantic and feel the raw, primal power of the ocean. The scent of sea and salt here on Long Beach Island took me back to my summers on Cape Cod, as rolling mounds of blue green seawater rippled toward land, slapping against the sand in a massive swooshie sigh.

At first glance deceptively non-threatening, the mounds would rise suddenly out of their humpbacked travel into perfectly sharp-edged curls that resembled skateboarding ‘half-pipes.’ Seeing the mares’ tails spraying back at the topmost edges of those waves made me yearn to be back in the early years of my second decade of life, when body surfing would occupy my days for hours on end and I would fall into bed exhausted. Yet I almost always had just enough juice left to read a couple chapters under the muted light of the Christmas tree light sized bulb in the nightlight above my pillow. With the windows open, I could hear the distant roar of the Atlantic, and I could see the sweep of the “I-love-you” light of Nauset lighthouse across the pine treetops.

Wampum Memories

Yes, just putting me feet into the ocean made me yearn for those days when I walked with my mom and picked up wampum, giving each piece to her for inspection on whether it was good enough to pass her eagle eye.

Speaking of eagles, here’s one of the photos I wanted to post yesterday of an eagle that visited me at the Tohickon back in April in a moment of exquisite solitude.