800 yards

It is not for everyone.  But it is a place unlike any other.  Many men and women come through here on a week to week excursion,  much fewer that come here and never leave, but it is not for everyone.   We are all just visitors here, for this place is truly owned by the extraordinary nature that begins at the waves and finishes up a few hundred yards to the west at the sound.   In between are the birds and the crabs, the dogs and the cats, the owls and the rats, the snakes and the turtles, the rabbits and the foxes.

No matter who thinks they own this or that, the wind will always have the last laugh.   When she decides to kick it up with her friends the rain and the tide,  we are at her mercy and are grateful for the amount of time she lets us stay here.   I will forever be in awe of the beauty that resides here on a day when the Sun pokes her head out from behind the clouds,  the winds lay dormant for a few hours, and the sky turns a shade of blue so sharp you cannot look away when you see it for the first time.   The trick is to never grow tired of such a day, as we live here on borrowed time from the Queen of Nature.  Appreciate the days that always turn out better than predicted,  for this 800 yard stretch has a mind of its own and can turn on you at a moment’s notice.

March has begun, and it is as quiet as quiet can be.  You have to be ok with the quiet to be here.  The slowness and stillness can drive a man crazy, or it can inspire him to do great things as that is where you plug into what you are supposed to do in this world.

The season on the island is about to begin,  let me take you through it this year.   The sounds of the sea,  the smell of the mist,  the seagull call from afar,  and the Saturday parade of cars.

There are many angles to see it from.   The visitor who wants to get away,  the resident who needs them for there are bills to pay.   It becomes a dance of sorts, the common denominator that most understand is that we are all on loan from the mighty Atlantic who lets us stay here a week,  a month,  a year,  a lifetime.

There will be many stories from whence everyone came,  and I will do my best to capture those things here.  It is calm here now,  but we who live here know the storm is coming, and preparations are underway.

The houses are being renovated, the restaurants are opening their doors, others waiting for April and May.   The musicians are tuning up their instruments, as we all know that every dance needs music.     We will start as the winds of March howl outside, telling everyone who truly rules the land that we get to call home.

800 yards and none of them wasted.   Everyone has their own reason for finding it.  Let their stories be told….

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