The Eye of the Storm
Last Friday it was pouring buckets here and the wind was blowing so hard you had to hold on just to get in the car. We thought about canceling our Friday morning breakfast picnic but we knew we needed this respite to get us through another week of the coronavirus quarantine. So we dressed warm, put on our hooded raincoats and I grabbed my camera and off we went. Fortunately, my car is in the garage so we didn’t need to get wet right out of the gate. First stop, the little bagel shop in our little town of Wenham. We had called in our order and when we got there, we texted them and they put out the order on the counter and off we go. Everything is paid for over the phone with your credit card. Well, it wasn’t really a beach day but it sure was an ocean day. We decided that we would go to the very tip of Cape Ann and go out on the fishing dock and watch the tide roll in. We had no idea that it was going to roll in and up and also sideways. The ocean is so beautiful but sometimes it can be mean, powerful and tragic. When you grow up on the ocean you learn really fast to respect it.
As we sat there and had our bagel breakfast we watched how fast and furious the waves were rolling in and just how hard they were hammering the breakwater. The open ocean is fierce. It was blowing those waves around just like sheets hanging on the line in summer, crashing one after another. The ocean has its beauty but it also has a great amount of fury. Just this past weekend this very storm swept the granddaughter and her son, members of the Kennedy family away when the canoe they were in, chasing a ball, got pushed out into the open water of Chesapeake Bay. We didn’t know that as we were sitting there watching this but when I got home and reviewed my photos, it occurred to me how very dangerous this particular storm was and how this virus that we are experiencing was as furious as this the ocean. Both have no regard for anything that is in their path. The force with which one is hit by either is quick, fast, painful and sometimes deadly. Such uncontrollable power is frightening and yet here we are in the middle of something we just have to endure the best we can. Stay strong and focused. Don’t become complacent. Fighting big storms takes a lot of energy but we can do this. Like the ocean, the virus will subside and back off eventually.
As we were leaving this wharf to go and check around the other side of the breakwater we saw another sign of this virus…Fishing and lobster boats silent and bobbing on their moorings. Fishing shacks closed and locked up tight. Cape Ann is a working fishing village. Boats go out every day, summer and winter but not today. A grim reminder of of our own lockdown. We each have to find our own mooring. Mine is photography and reading. They keep me anchored. For a moment the rain stopped and I was able to jump out of the car and grab a few snaps. I thought it amusing that the first boat was named Windy…and the last boat was called New England. That just about summed up what this day was all about.
Just around the corner from the wharf is the little village of shops and restaurants that line the main road into the art colony. In summer cars are not allowed on this road making it very walking friendly and normally it is packed with tourists. At the Pewter shop if you take the road to the left you will find several little alleys with shops full of wonderful handcrafted items. If you go to the right you will also have many shops to choose from, art galleries, food and little alleys with fish shacks with fresh delights such as fried clams and lobster dinners right off the boat. For that sweet tooth homemade strudel filled with cheeries and apples while you wait. Just the smell is heavenly. At the end of the street, you are back on the water where you end your tour with a few more unique shops and the local cat that keeps watch and stay dry. Smart kitty. A delightful place to spend a summer day.
As we work our way back to the main road towards home we come around the backside of the pier. Not much better over here. Actually, I thought it was worse. Closer inland you can see the waves starting way out there, white caps. As it rolls in gathering speed then slaming into the rocks and comes up the side of the breakwater it begins to churn up the sand. Lots of seagulls, looking for a free lunch if the waves and sand kick up any fish that got caught up in the pull of the sea. Mother Nature doing her spring cleaning and reminding us once again about who is in control.
As we leave the tip of Cape Ann and head home we decided that even with all that turmoil in the ocean, all that nasty rain and very poor visibility that it was a good day to be at the ocean. Sometimes we need Mother Nature to tell us stories, give us forgotten lessons about life and how every day isn’t perfect, sunny and beautiful. Storms come, some not so bad but then every once in a while there will be a storm that takes your breath away and brakes your back with its intensity. A storm that tugs at your heartstrings so bad it feels like it’s bleeding…it also teaches us that we will fly out of this storm with many lessons learned and a new respect for each other and our land. This virus is the big one, that is for sure. I feel like this is the mother of all storms and it’s trying to drag us under some days. But we are tough. I know that is true for us New Englanders but I bet it’s also true for all of us. We don’t go down easy and like that lonely seagull flying about, so strong against such adversity, we too, will soar again and find our own beauty waiting for us in a different way because of these dark, stormy days. Coming out on the other side is going to feel so good but we must have patience even if it takes us a while…I can feel the loving arms of so many hugs already. Hugs that have been sorely missed. All the sweeter when delivered after such a long absence. So stay safe and take care of each other until this storm passes, as we know it will.
All the above photos were taken with my workhorse, Canon 7DMk11 and my Tamron 16-300mm lens. Thank you for your visits and comments. It is always nice to see you, especially in this storm…be safe and well.