ocean therapy

We arrived home from a week's vacation yesterday: Cape Cod, Boston, and a dozen points in between.
One of the points in-between was Plymouth Mass. While 60 tourists clicked intently away with cameras pointing toward the famous Plymouth Rock, my viewfinder looked for the sea. As usual.

The dunes were as alluring as they always are & forever will be for me.

The smell of salt and frothy turf, the plaintive scrawks of gulls, and the delicate palette of blue, gray, and brown make me want to jump, run, cry, and quiver with joy all at once. Ask my family. They allow me space to act out, giving me wide berth on the beach.

They call it "Mommy-time".

Perhaps the reason this beach was so wondrously desolate was the aforementioned behavior.

I love the vibe of the wharves.

The silvery-gray curl of the ocean is so beautiful. There are no words to adequately describe it.

It was a much-needed time away from the regular rhythms of home.