Everything is wonderful until we think we see a greenhead. Not to be driven away by a large insect that bites and chews skin then spits its hideous saliva into the gaping wound so it stings like a motherfucker, we give ourselves a two-hour limit unless we get completely overtaken by the damn greenheads.
By the way, it's August; greenheads should have packed up and moved north by now. A couple of times we are attacked by something, and we think it might be greenheads, but then we realize that the pain is momentary and fleeting, not horrifying and welt-worthy. Nope, NOT greenheads. This means that we add extra time after we hit the two-hour mark of lounging on the beach.
We are smack in the middle of the surfers -- annoying to them, but it is a public beach, so ... sorry we are not sorry. After getting completely soaked in the waves and getting salt and sand in our hair and our bathing suits, we relax and chat and are completely cool and comfy.
We notice that clouds have started to move in, so we pack up and head toward home. We take a back road adventure and discover a parallel route to the highway, one that is scenic, quiet, and remarkably enjoyable. I suspect it is going to be the new norm. Once on the highway, we travel for a short distance before hitting traffic that is stopped dead due to construction. A quick and expert double-lane switch gets us out of the bottleneck and onto back roads again.
After the rain stops hours later, the temperature is still steamy and it is still humid outside, so the windows remain shut and the air conditioners are blasting. Another successful day is on the books: sun, sand, rain, thunder, and closed windows. In other words, it's a perfect New England summer day.
