Stolen Summer Day

 

Yesterday we spent the last possible perfect day at Birch Bay. The sky was already clouding up, but as long as the tide was out Ryanne and Blayze were warm enough to play on the sand. Blayze sat quietly digging while Ryanne raced back and forth to the tide-line hauling buckets of water to fill the newly engineered rivers and ponds.

Which is an interesting point. Digging and hauling wouldn't be much fun if it wasn't for the way their little heads were interpreting the activity.

I was relieved that the crab they were using for island king was the long dead victim of a gull. Relieved, because if it was alive, they wouldn't have treated it much differently. When its lifeless legs moved with the tide, Ryanne made some remark about bringing it back to life. After I told her that life was a one way trip, I had to reassure her that of course she wasn't going to die. Just another little lie to go along with the fantasy of King Crab and the miniature island.

Hundreds of geese were flocking in the bay. I didn't know they would swim in salt water, but they rested there for quite a while. They made an huge, squawking racket went they moved across the water in a group, but when it was time to go, they departed in groups of six or less, filling the sky with vees.

The sand stuck like glue to the girls' knees and hands. When we got home, I hosed them off on the lawn, but still there was a layer of sand on the bathroom floor after they changed clothes. After a quick sweep with the broom, I got on my hands and knees with a wet rag to mop up the rest. When I sat down, I noticed that my hands smelled like the beach.

Today it is blustery and rainy. The perfect weather for remembering the beach.

Nancy Sherer

 

 


Copyright 1997 - 2011

SalmonRiverPublishing
All rights reserved