Taking Deep Breaths of Summer

As we approach the end of summer and our exodus from the island, I breathe deep gulps of sea air. Enough to hold me over for a while. We’ll be back later this fall, but with darkness falling earlier each evening and the hint of a chill in the air, it feels like I need that sea air to last me a long time. Back in my suburban neighborhood, I don’t smell the ocean very often. Occasionally a coastal storm blows the sea air to our neighborhood, but those blows are few and far between. Like one of the seals hanging out in the waters off the beach, I fill my lungs with air.

In the yard, a single cicada uses its tymbal organ to buzz in September’s late morning heat. I’m still here, it rattles. Don’t count summer gone just yet.

At the beach, I squeeze my toes in the sand, the hot granules warming my toes as they sift through them. Digging my toes deeper, I reach the cold and clammy wet sand, welcome on a hot summer day, but now just a reminder of cold weather on its way. I pull my feet back to the surface and and slide my toes through the heated top layer of silky summer grains.

These are the days when the water is warmer than the air. Best to linger in the salty water a little longer then.

For dinner, we picnic on fish and chips by the water, joining lots of people who have come to watch the sun set. As we eat, we admire the tall masts and billowing sails of the Alabama as the tall ship turns back into the harbor on her sunset sail. We ooh and aah in pleasure as bright magenta takes over the sky in swathes and wispy cloud formations. A ferry crosses through the sunset, bringing passengers back to the mainland, a reminder that we’ll be taking that journey soon. I turn my attention back to the sunset and take another deep breath that tastes of seaweed. A fisherman casts into the inky water as we lick malt vinegar and salt from our fingers. We sigh with satisfaction as we pack up the remains of our food.

Heading back to the house, we drive by Sengekontacket Pond with hints of the sunset behind us. The pond is perfectly flat, as flat as glass, and it reflects the pink feathery clouds in darkening gray. The shell fishermen’s boats and buoys are dark shadows on the pond, so familiar that the shapes are easily recognizable.

Canada geese honk overhead on their journey from one farm field to another, in their practice runs for a Southern journey that they no longer seem to take. They land in a recently harvested corn field and honk and chatter as they search for leftovers.

The night sky is brilliantly clear and bursting with stars. The Milky Way, so elusive in July and much of August, is showing itself off now. It’s one of the tradeoffs for losing summer. The sky coaxes me into fall with shooting stars that trail across the infinite darkness and crystal clear constellations that offer themselves up to be identified and admired. My birthday binoculars are at the ready and we use them to admire the moon’s craters and the surprising purples and reds of a blinking star.

As weather permits, we’ll grab every minute of beach time that we can get from these last weekends. I’ll fill my lungs with this delicious air, so that the memory of its taste gets me through winter, until I can get back to this much-loved saltiness again.

About the photo: Watching the sunset over West Chop from Eastville Point Beach, Martha’s Vineyard.

Related Posts

You might enjoy some of these posts.

• Menemsha Hills Trails, Martha’s Vineyard
• Illumination Night on Martha’s Vineyard
• Martha’s Vineyard Gingerbread Cottages
• Visiting Chappaquiddick, Martha’s Vineyard
• Lighthouses of Martha’s Vineyard