Dusty Emerald

I’m composing this as I look out the window of my motel room that sits on a bluff overlooking the estuary of the Ogunquit River as it empties into the ocean. There is something wonderfully calming about sitting or walking seaside: the salt air, the constant breeze, the perpetual, dull roar of the surf. I would describe the color of the ocean here as “dusty emerald,” as contrasted with the turquoise and sapphire hues of the Caribbean where I have sometimes taken a winter break. The ocean was calm, with waves smaller than those in which I learned to swim in Lake Erie as a boy. No surf crashing against the rocks, even at high tide. Just a calming, lovely repetition, lulling me to nod off in my chair.
 
Oceanfront accommodations go for a premium, since everyone wants at least a view of the water. Some Evolutionists suggest that we humans enjoy the ocean because they deduce that all life began there. Being more of a Creationist, I question that theory, believing evolution to be more limited, and that God created humans in His own image and likeness. Our Church does not insist that we embrace one theory or the other, placing the two Creation stories in the Book of Genesis before us for our reflection.
 
I stay at The Beachmere, which was originally a large Victorian-era house turned into an Inn. A motel was built in 1937 at the far end of the property, and a new wing was added about ten years ago. I prefer the 1937 building because I like the small rooms, generous porches and unbeatable views of the sea. From my porch I can see across the wide lawn, over the rocky bluff, past the river, to the wide expanse of Ogunquit Beach which completely disappears from view at the neap tide, then hours later, reveals a peopled expanse as the tide ebbs. At low tide, one can wade across the river to the beach, but once the tide begins to return, one needs to dash quickly or will have to walk all the way around to the bridge, into the village and then back to the motel grounds. I only did this once, years ago, since the ocean water is too cold (56 degrees last week).
 
Across the lawn there is access to The Marginal Way, a walkway which winds around the cliffs and bluffs from Ogunquit to Perkins Cove, which was once a fishing village, and now houses restaurants, upscale souvenir boutiques, and T-shirt shops (I bought two). I’m an early riser, so the walking path is uncrowded, and other walkers generally offer a polite greeting. Later in the day, when it’s crowded, greetings come less frequently.
 
You can’t beat the seafood that’s available here, most of which comes with a view of the ocean. I enjoy clam chowder and had a serving of it each day. I’ve come up with a theory about chowder: it seems that the farther inland one goes, the thicker the chowder is. Seaside chowder (pronounced “chowda” in Maine) is thinner and milder, and contains more clams than potatoes. Then there is Lobster. Each time I see one, I wonder who was the first person who looked at this, one of God’s unsightlier creatures, and thought, “That looks delicious.”

Lobster is served in many ways, the most popular of which seems to be the lobster roll. The very best of these I’ve ever enjoyed was on Block Island. The roll was grilled and swimming in butter. Maine is also known for Blueberry Pie, my favorite, and available almost everywhere. Of course, I also purchased the requisite Salt Water Taffy as gifts.
 
So, I’m home for the summer now, as parish life decreases and work in the garden increases. When I turn on the air conditioner in my room, its dull sound reminds me a bit of the surf, and it helps me to fall asleep. Since we were unable to take vacation trips last year, I hope you can get away this summer to someplace relaxing and renewing.