SIDE TRIP TO THE SAND

Every few years we are hit with late autumn temperatures that are single digit numbers with wind chills even lower. This is, apparently, that year in the cycle. It has been so cold that my skin is already rebelling, and there isn't enough cream or lotion in the world to make my poor fingers or toes feel any safer from the wrath of winter's approach.

To top all of this off, we had ridiculous weather Friday: mild morning, temperatures approaching 60 by lunch, then a line of monsoons so strong that roads flooded and lightning flashed and wind pounded and power was lost in various places across New England. With the line of storms, temperatures dropped rapidly, turning us back into icicles.

All of this, and Winter is just (officially) starting.

I have to be in Hampton, NH, today. Since it's along the coast, and since the wind is still being naughty, I'm not sure that visiting the beach is my brightest idea, especially with high tide. I stop along the way at all the old haunts: Salisbury Center, Seabrook, Hampton State Park, Hampton Strip, and, finally, the beach just north of the action, famously known as The Wall. I know all of these beaches so deeply that I can feel each different texture of sand as if the memories are etched into my skin.

I stop, snapping photos as if I've never seen the ocean before. Quite honestly, the ocean is fickle even today. In Salisbury, the water is so deeply blue that it looks almost like a dark sapphire. In Seabrook, the water is slightly lighter and less dramatic. Hampton, though, the ocean is a multitude of many blues, and the waves slap the sand with intention. 

As I drive along The Wall, I glance behind me just in time to see a wave splash over the concrete barrier and into the road. I just miss getting a salt-water car wash. It's not a dramatic wave; it isn't flooding the street. It's just playing, letting me know it can come over that wall whenever and wherever it wants, even if that means Route 1A instead of the beach and the rocks. I stop there, noting the many surfers in their wet suits, and watch the multiple swells roll in.

Eventually, I drive away from the water, inland a few miles, still close enough to the ocean that I can smell it but no longer see it. Once the holidays pass, the new countdown begins. Yes, I'm aware that Winter is just beginning, and I still need to put sledding, skating, and snowshoeing on my bucket list (since last year was basically a snowless bust). But, today's trip reminds me that summer is coming. In six short months, yes, summer. Neither the air nor the water will be wearing their winter coats, and I can hope that as cold as this season has been, the summer will be equally and conversely as warm.