On Friday, December 14, we had another walk on the beach- our fifth trip down to Pemaquid Beach.
The beach trips are beginning to have their own rhythm. I gather up clothing, leash, whistle, and camera, while Spot jumps up and down. Heading to the car he races around the house in excitement, while I open the doors. He leaps into the back seat, I get into the front. He sniffs the items in the front… making sure that he is going where he hopes. He does know. If I have packages he knows we are heading to the post office, a computer, to the web guy, shampoo, oh, oh… time for a bath.
As we drive down the point Spot stands looking out the window, tail gently wagging. Once at the turn in to the beach, he starts to moan in excitement.
Once out of the car he runs toward the beach, while I adjust clothing, hat, scarf, gloves. We cut across the parking lot, and then Spot is put on lead as we walk down the short path that cuts through the small dune area.
Once at the opening to the beach we survey it to the left,
and to the right.
PEMAQUID BEACH, Maine
Once I know there are not a lot of people, dogs, or horses I let Spot loose.
Today it was cold, around 22 degrees F., but clear. There was a slight wind, which created chop on the water. The tide, was higher than we had seen it, but was slipping out.
We always head down the right hand side of the beach first.
Today, the sea was running hard, even though the tide was ebbing.
The small tidal vignettes intrigue me.
On this beach it is not just shells and stones one sees.
There are things from the salt marsh in back of the dunes
as well as trees growing near the beach.
One might see an acorn with seaweed
or a single large bladder from seaweed.
Nearing the end of the beach,
one could see the tide was covering most of the rocks at the end.
The stakes that mark the end of the point were in water.
We would not be able to get to the cove beyond.
Spot decided to try anyway. He clambered up the rocks,
stepping on thick layer of ice covering a tide pool.
The sharp sound as it broke startled him, so I joined him.
Looking over to the smaller cove, it was filled with water.
Spot reluctantly agreed to return to the beach.
Once down on the sand, and looking back down the beach,
one could see the different layers of water,
made as the waves hit the slope of the beach.
As the waves receded lines of foam remained.
And today the foam was thick enough to leave areas of the sand dappled with it as well.
Not all of the foam dissipates.
As we walked down the beach
the wind started to pick up.
Spot’s fur blows in the wind.
Spot goes ahead exploring,
while I look for interesting things on the sand.
Every once in a while he checks on me,
one can almost here him say,
“Are you ever going to hurry up?”
The banks along the small spring that drains the salt marsh
were not high at all.
There had not been time enough to carve a deep channel,
as it had not been that long since high tide.
Just past the stream were a few small still lifes. These are so artistically arranged, they look staged.
A PINE CONE with SEAWEED and STONE
A MUSSEL SHELL, half buried, with
SEAWEED
The seaweed attached to the rocks near the end of the beach
was floating in the tide.
Out beyond the billowing seaweed
was one lone gull.
Further in toward the curve of the beach
was a group of four ducks.
We started back for our second pass
down the right hand side of the beach.
I found a lovely vignette with
a small branchlet of leaves, a seaweed bladder, and seaweed.
Spot enjoyed snuffing at a large pile of seaweed
left by the tide.
As the waves moved in and out around one of the piles,
a small whirl pool formed.
It was easily seen as the tidal foam swirled.
Nearby a pile of seaweed held a thick layer of foam.
The foam lines from waves,
appear as small tracings of slightly raised sand on the dry sand.
They are much more apparent the wetter the sand.
Having walked the beach on the wetter sand,
going back we headed up along the dunes.
A small bouy and rope,
half buried in the sand,
reminds one of all the boating and fishing that takes place off shore.
Near the opening to the path away from the beach
was a feather and a roll of birch bark,
with a tangle of leaves and seaweed.
Once we had turned the corner past the stream we were headed back into the wind.
And I realized high clouds were moving in, from the land,
even though an off-shore wind was driving the waves in.
Continuing on, Spot found a stick.
Which he enjoyed thoroughly!
Near the end of the beach was an odd thing.
A birch tree trunk, with the insides totally gone.
The bark was intact, just the soft wood interior was gone.
Turning at the end of the beach, near the rocks,
Spot seems to dare the wavelets to wet his feet.
The clouds continued to gather as we headed toward the path.
They streamed in over the salt march.
A lone gull is silhouetted against a mackerel sky.
Reaching the path, I turned to take a last look at the beach, to say good bye until next week.
_______________________________