Ogunquit Quietude

Some Ogunquit visits are loud and exciting, filled with noise and fireworks and non-stop motion. Other visits are quieter and looser, subdued by beauty, good food and lovely weather, like a balm upon the soul when the rest of the world gets a little too noisy and chaotic. For this trip, after such a torturous winter, we opted for the latter. I wanted quiet and peace, with room for naps, and an unrushed pace that allowed the town to wash over our weariness, gently restoring and replenishing what the winter had drained.

It began on the Marginal Way, and both of our walks along that gorgeous path happened to be at times when the tide was going out. There were no thundering waves crashing upon the rocks, no relentless wind that made talking and listening difficult. It was as if the ocean was lulling the hesitant back into trusting her again, and it worked.

Flowers joined in the gentle tugging at the heart. Much of the plant life was late, but that worked out well; we often miss the lilacs but now they were in full bloom (more on them later). Other things were just beginning, such as this brilliant blue camassia (the flowers of which are usually gone by the time we arrive). Creeping phlox was a carpet of riotous color, while apple and plum blossoms waved fragrant white flags against the sky.

For a writer and observer (and, ahem, blogger) it is sometimes difficult to get out of one’s head-space, to not worry about documenting and retaining what is being seen and experienced, but when I’m in Ogunquit, I remember to let go and inhabit the moment. It takes a while to be wholly present again, to be completely mindful of where I am and not think about the future.

I walk out along the rocks, peering into tide pools and the gorgeous green ribbons of seaweed gently undulating with each lapping wave. Bits of iridescent sea shells sparkle in the sun-drenched water, and the warm light of that setting orb sets the rocks aflame.

I pause and look out over the ocean, and Andy takes the only photos that will be taken of me for the rest of the weekend. (There will be more than enough of me to come in the next few months… you have been warned.) For now, we examine a feather at the foot of the Marginal Way, as indicative of the beauty and the quiet I’ve sought for so long. It is as lovely a beginning as any.

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