I always know that my cottage by the sea days are coming to an end when, on a sunny Sunday afternoon beach chairs are scattered along the beach. Humanity is settling in. Today, along with seaweed and rocks, the beach was cluttered with people looking for sea glass, flying kites, walking their dogs and just sitting.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not complaining. I feel no title of ownership here, no position of privilege. Rather, I am is grateful that I’ve had the opportunity to live this existence of silence, solitude and simplicity, which is at its mysterious best in the winter months when those on the beach are in their own world. In the dark of winter silence is palpable, simplicity a given and solitude accepted as the norm. As the days lengthen, community becomes the rule. Two more weeks here seems just about right.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not complaining. I feel no title of ownership here, no position of privilege. Rather, I am is grateful that I’ve had the opportunity to live this existence of silence, solitude and simplicity, which is at its mysterious best in the winter months when those on the beach are in their own world. In the dark of winter silence is palpable, simplicity a given and solitude accepted as the norm. As the days lengthen, community becomes the rule. Two more weeks here seems just about right.