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Category Archives: Ogunquit

Spring in Ogunquit: Rain and Shine – Part 2

Eventually the sky brightened – glimpses of blue and peeks of sun emerged – though storms and rain were encroaching and surrounding us at all times, occasionally rearing some rainy moments. One time we were at the beach, just skirting the entrance, when the skies turned dark so we had to hurry back to the inn – there’s a photo below of that, but before we got there we did manage to find some lilacs in full bloom – their scent evocative of childhood and happiness and springs that came before

Not only were the traditional lilac lilacs in bloom, but the more rare white lilac was putting on a show – an elegant and slightly softer-scented version of its ubiquitous cousin.

They held their heads up in the face of incoming stormy patches, when the sky started spitting rain and the wind picked up in slightly menacing fashion. It was just enough drama to keep things interesting – and as long as it wasn’t a steady downpour for hours at a time, we managed to be in and out and variously about to make the most of this precious part of Maine. 

Breaks of sun made for pockets of bloom time for some of the understory flowers and shrubs, who lit up the cloudy sections with their pastel prettiness. 

By Sunday, our last full day in town, the stormy patches had passed and the Marginal Way was sunny.

The waves were still being dramatic, which made for wonderful moments of wave-watching

Having made our way to Perkins Cove, we picked up a few gifts for Mom, including a fabulous scarf from Kiki’s (where I once found a glorious blue boa that will one day fill a blog post as promised).

The walk back was as beautiful as the way there, only it felt like it went by faster, as is usually the case with pleasant experiences. 

The whole long Memorial Day weekend went by that way… the way life should be. 

Our last morning dawned in sunny and fine fashion – the way every single departure day from Ogunquit has always gone – I’ve a mind to schedule an extra day in the future just to play with fate. As we checked out with Anthony at the Scotch Hill Inn, we booked our fall visit – a little bit of hope to ease the end of summer when it comes.

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Spring in Ogunquit: Rain and Shine – Part 1

How fitting that I am writing about our latest Ogunquit adventures on a very rainy Saturday morning. Rain is very clearly our spring theme – forget about dreaming – and to be frank, this rain is BULLSHIT. Anyway, even with the wet stuff, we can never have a bad time in Ogunquit, so let’s revisit our visit.

 

Our Thursday entry into town was – surprise! – a rain-soaked endeavor, reminding us of the first few years we started coming to the Beautiful Place By the Sea, where every trip was accompanied by steady rain. This marks our 25th year of visiting Maine together, and it’s always a treat. This was the very first trip that Andy and I took as a couple. It felt right 25 years ago, and it still feels right today.

While the drive through Massachusetts was a rainy one, once we arrived in Ogunquit the sky was only spitting a bit. Heavier rain would return for our dinner at Walker’s later that night, but for the first few minutes there was a little reprieve. We made a quick walk across the street for a lunch snack, while a wind, decidedly too cool for a spring visit, danced around us. The sky threatened rain again, so we hurried back to the Inn.

We settled into our favorite room at the Scotch Hill Inn, which is a sanctuary of comfort at every time of the year and in every sort of weather condition. Coupled with the amazing breakfasts by inn-keeper Anthony, we could be happy simply staying in, and for the rainy periods that’s largely what we did – it was heaven.

While the rain allowed for guilt-free lounging, it also afforded blooms and water-accented leaves of beauty for passers-by who happened upon them.

The town was largely in full bloom – apple blossoms and iris and azaleas were all putting on a splendid show, even through the rainy weather. 

I found my way to a favored woodland walk, where wake robins were in their charming bloom – usually by the time we arrive their show has already taken place. The weather worked in our favor this time, as they were at the pinnacle of their floral magnificence. 

What we gained from the trilium, we lost in the form of very few Rosa rugosa blooms, though we managed to captured this lone white version. It had to carry all the charm of the spring in a single blossom, and it did.

We don’t take many vacations, so it takes a while to get into a vacation groove. While I pretend to be hard-wired for lounging and ease, the truth is I’m a hard-working Virgo who rarely just relaxes. That takes a while to calibrate, and I remember a former co-worker many years ago telling me that she needed two weeks for a proper vacation – because the first week was simply learning how to decompress – and I totally get it. 

It’s a little easier to more quickly find vacation bearings in Maine, where the living and eating is so good. As Friday dawned, the sky looked a little lighter…

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Sweet Ogunquit Autumn

“I will sleep no more but arise,

You oceans that have been calm within me!

how I feel you, fathomless, stirring, preparing unprecedented waves and storms.” ~ Walt Whitman

Our autumn trip to Ogunquit was blessed with some of the nicest weather we’ve had on our fall excursions – full sun and breezy days, with only one bout of gray and a bit of rain near the end. Staying at the Anchorage, our group of three – me, Andy and Mom – was right on the shore, and the backdrop of the ocean provided a calm setting for the long weekend. 

While the pumpkins and gourds and corn stalks were on their fall display, summer lingered in the blooms that were till going. Like our cleome at home, the cleome here was still blooming, along with cosmos and roses and that October showpiece the aster

While our last trip to Ogunquit was our first without Dad, this one felt a little lonelier. Back then we were just finding our way – and it was all new and uncharted – enough so to distract us. This time we were also back at the place where he and Mom always stayed, which I think made it a little sadder for her. Still, there was beauty, and someone was smiling upon our quiet and pretty weekend by the shore. 

The weather looked to be best on our first full day there, so we made that our Marginal Way day, taking our time walking along the majestic stretch of shoreline, pausing on a couple of benches and taking in the brilliance of the day, and the ocean. 

And so the other days passed – the weather turned for the better when storms were predicted, holding off until the end. We napped, and we sat by the ocean, and I made a few solitary walks and shopping excursions about town. A welcome break from our fade-to-black fall, even if the cowboy hat remained. 

Fall unfurled its golden hour moments – the golden hour of the day, the golden hour of the year.

Saving our favorite restaurant for last – the cozy Walker’s, where a couple of fireplaces staved off the cold night – we arrived and peered into the warm environs.

We were seated near the main fireplace, which was kept stocked with fresh logs throughout the evening. I had one of the best duck dinners I’ve tasted in years – something Dad would have ordered and loved. 

We closed out the holiday weekend as the weather turned to something similar to spring, and since spring will come again that feels like a fitting place to close this little chapter. 

“Whenever I look at the ocean, I always want to talk to people, but when I’m talking to people, I always want to look at the ocean.” ~ Haruki Murakami

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Autumn Ogunquit Memories

We are scheduled to be wrapping up our fall pilgrimage to Ogunquit tomorrow, and before I work up the energy to recap that, here’s a linky look back at previous Ogunquit trips in the fall. While I love the promise and hope inherent in a spring visit, our fall visits are cozy, quiet, and beautiful vacations – always worth a look-back.

Our First Trip to Ogunquit Without Dad

Autumn in Ogunquit – Part 1

Autumn in Ogunquit – Part 2

Autumn In Ogunquit – Part 3

A Brief Ogunquit Revisit

Harvest Moon Over Maine

Fall Bye OGT

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Seaside Spring Retreat – Part 4

We saved one of our favorite jaunts in Ogunquit for our last full day. Walking the Marginal Way was the first thing we did on our very first trip here all those years ago, and it was an introduction that made the most marvelous impression on me.  It never loses its majesty, and it’s never quite the same journey twice. That seems impossible for those of us who have been walking it for almost a quarter of a century, but it’s absolutely true. The ocean, the sand, the shore, the wind, the air – they are in constant undulation and motion, never appearing in exactly the same way from moment to moment. There’s magic in that, as in the way the first beach roses of the season unfurl and spark their fiery focal points of visual interest. 

Along with the aforementioned changeability of the scene, the bluets seen below (Houstonia caerulea) have switched their position as well – this year they staked out a daring perch amid the rocks closest to the sea. Usually they hide further inland, within some protected nook shaded by juniper boughs and bittersweet vines. This year they were right there in plain sight – exposed for all to see – and they looked all the more jubilant for their exposure. 

We took our time meandering along the rocky coastline, occasionally stopping to take in the view. My departed Gram is here, and now it feels like Dad is here too – a memory of watching him watch the pumpkin carvers at the Anchorage on a sunny October day by the Marginal Way haunts me in a mostly happy way. Beauty is only a bit of a balm at such times – the rest will have to come with time

Returning to the house, we continued a relatively new tradition – because finding new traditions twenty-four years into visiting this Beautiful Place By the Sea is one of the best reasons to keep coming back here. Afternoons when the weather is fine, and it’s too glorious to nap it all away, Andy and I would take a cup of tea or coffee onto the front porch and watch as the beachgoers returned to their lodgings, while others walked back into town. Life walked by in all its stunning variety, as ours stilled for a moment of sacred, shared togetherness. 

I ran into the front yard to grab a picture of Andy, who promptly made a funny face. 

Thus our last full day of this trip came to an amusing close.

We can’t wait to come back. 

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Seaside Spring Retreat – Part 3

At one point or another on every trip or vacation we take, I will often find myself alone, as is my wont (and a secret as to how Andy and I have gotten along for these twenty-four years). On this weekend, it consisted of a walk through town, and an excursion to a little woodland stretch off the beaten path where I usually miss the Trillium in bloom. This year they were holding onto their flowers, which felt like another gift after the lilacs and peonies in our room.

A bleeding heart dangled its precious pink cargo at the other end of the path – a true harbinger of summer – and I paused there to take in the day, and to accept a little bit of gratitude. No matter how rough the times in-between our trips to Ogunquit may occasionally be, in this space I have always found a place of peace. 

It wasn’t only the woods that were bursting with blooms, as this line of irises leading up to the Scotch Hill Inn proved in pungent purple fashion. Bearded irises, and their spicy scent, bring me back to summers in Suzie’s garden, where I would also wander on my own – the only kid entirely entranced by the irises and peonies and plants in the semi-secret garden of the Ko’s side yard

We’d already ticked more than halfway through our trip to Ogunquit, and I wanted to slow time, so I leaned into an iris bloom and inhaled a memory…

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Seaside Spring Retreat – Part 2

While the lilacs of Maine were in full bloom as we arrived, we were missing the first flush of peonies back at home. Refusing to completely be absent from that most magnificent moment of the garden, I picked a bouquet of blooms to keep in our guest room. After setting up on the table by the window, they provided an unexpectedly-potent source of beauty and perfume, and a new memory that mingled the perfume of a peony with the happiness of a vacation with Andy. Memories are bound most powerfully by scent and new settings, especially in spring or summer. 

Outside the window, a catbird sang us a morning song, and then joined us as we enjoyed one of Anthony’s delicious breakfasts at the Scott Hill Inn. Sharing the first meal of the day on the front porch as the sun streamed in and the promise of an afternoon at the beach presented itself would be one of the more joyous moments of our entire weekend.

Beach days are never a guarantee in Maine, particularly this early in the season, but this year we lucked out. Spending a day at the beach is a favorite escapade of Andy so we made our way to one of the best beaches in the country and set up our towels in the sand and sun. The ocean cast its typical spell, its waves gently beating a seductive rhythm of tranquility, enough to lull the most jaded or stressed among us into a state of peace and comfort. 

Returning to our home-away-from-home, Andy took a nap while I padded out to the front porch to take in more of the afternoon light and do my daily meditation. A bright yellow azalea bloomed beside the granite posts of the Bed & Breakfast sign – prettiness and sturdiness at once – and another beautiful coupling that adds to the enchantment of Ogunquit

I tip-toed back into our room and snuggled into bed for a little nap myself. Meanwhile, the peonies continued to bloom… 

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Seaside Spring Retreat – Part 1

Our very first trip to Ogunquit, Maine occurred in the late summer days of 2000 – almost twenty-four years ago. It was our first vacation anywhere together, and neither Andy nor myself knew or had an idea of how it might play out. Just three months into dating, it could have gone any number of ways, but the weather was behind us – glorious sunny days of early September – and our mutual desire for one another kept us consistently entertained in our knotty pine room. Most people can get along in those early days of dating; it’s how they fare twenty-plus years into things that is the true test of love and time. 

We made our Memorial Day weekend pilgrimage to Maine on a sunny day that soon threatened a storm, but we had some time before that quick bit of rain, and in one of those happy strokes of floral timing, the lilacs were in full bloom (a couple of weeks after ours in upstate NY had finished their show). Usually the most magical perfume is when the beach roses mingle with the sea-spray along the Marginal Way – on this trip, it was lilacs and sea salt – and it beat all the cologne bottles I brought along for the journey

In the quickly-closing window of time before an anticipated spell of rain, Andy and I made a short walk to have a snack and take in the sea. The instant its blue-green shade comes into view, and its intoxicating marine perfume delightfully tickles the nose, a calm invariably comes over our countenance. It’s immediate and visceral, and something that is most powerfully effected by our approximation to the sea

After our first trip here in September, we started returning in May – and for about a decade every single Memorial Day weekend ended up being cold and gray and rainy – and still we fell in love with Ogunquit. So on our first afternoon here this year, a little spell of rain didn’t dampen our spirits, even as we had to rush back to our bed and breakfast to stay dry. 

It was a quick spell, and would be the only bout of bad weather until our day of departure, so our meteorological fortune had finally turned. The clouds moved off for the remainder of the weekend, and after dinner at the Crooked Pine, we made another walk to the shore. 

It’s a view that never gets old, and that we never take for granted. Another spring seaside retreat had begun, and the lilacs lent their magic to the festivities

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Blush Off An Ogunquit Rose

Our fall Ogunquit trip was barely in the rearview window when the rain arrived, and the work week that followed served to bring me back to life, back to reality, back to the here and now. Not that I wanted to come back to any of that, and not that I had any other choice. The rain was almost welcome, as it was at the end of this summer, mirroring the mood, lowering the expectations of happiness and cheer. The memory is where most of the sun shines these days, and mine was rich with all that our time near the Beautiful Place By the Sea afforded. 

Peering through waving grasses that weren’t quite amber, the sea winked at me from a sacred memory palace. I could almost conjure the scent on that wind, the faint wisps of sea roses sprinkling their sweet pockets of perfume along the way. In deep breaths and closed eyes, I can feel myself there, and I can feel there inside myself. May the mind work such wonders for as long as I am here. 

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Our First Trip to Ogunquit Without Dad

Before he declined to the point where he couldn’t travel, Dad had often joined us for our autumn trip to Ogunquit, Maine. He and Mom would sometimes go up a day or two early to explore a nearby town, or simply enjoy the benefits of retirement. Andy and I would join them for the remainder of the stay, and we’d establish a tradition of breakfasting together, doing our own thing during the day, then coming back for dinner and discussing what adventures we’d each had. This was our first trip anywhere without Dad being here – either in person or back home – and I expected it to be somewhat emotional. I hoped it would also be healing. Happily, there is no better place than Ogunquit to aid with both. 

Upon our arrival, we were greeted with the comforting visage of Anthony at the Scotch Hill Inn, who showed us to our usual room, and Mom to her accommodations in the room next door. Our parents usually stayed at the Anchorage, a bit of a walk from our previous guesthouse, so this was a convenient change, and a nice new tradition having us all together under one roof.

While the weather was good – coastal Maine  cannot be counted on for that in mid-October – we decided to make an early walk to the Marginal Way, just to get a quick ocean fix before dinner. Passing the plants that were at the end of their season, Mom and I looked for the amaranthus and castor bean plants that always intrigued Dad. He once harvested some seeds and grew a stand of magnificent amaranthus one year. On this visit, there were no signs of those plants, and I didn’t realize until that moment how much I was counting on them, hoping they would provide a reminder of him. 

Instead, we found an open bench on the Marginal Way, and paused to take in the view. Seagulls and water birds usually kept their distance from this section – we’d encounter them on the beach or further along the way, but they were usually not this close, so when one sauntered over to our bench, it was a surprise. 

This gull came right up to us, not in the least frightened or timid, simply studying each of us with wide-eyed interest and imploring actions, as if trying to get our attention and communicate something. It walked around the legs and feet of Mom and Andy, within inches of them. I’d seen such actions in pigeons seeking out crumbs, or the tamed birds and squirrels at the Boston Public Garden – I’d never seen a seagull do this, and definitely not on the Marginal Way. It felt like Dad was saying hello. 

One of the things that Dad always noticed wherever we went was the actions of the animals. He’d be the first to describe what a squirrel or bird was doing on the side porch, or the ducks at the Public Garden, or the seagulls by the shore. He also took an interest in unusual plants, or unusual vegetable specimens, such as the giant pumpkins near the Anchorage. 

On one of our last visits, we were there as they started carving one of the pumpkins – Dad stayed there and watched them do it, conversing with the carvers and finding out the history of the pumpkin and how it was transported, as well as what they did with the seeds and pulp. He reported what he learned later at dinner. On this day, passing the great pumpkins at the Anchorage brought me back to that moment, and brought Dad back to our minds for this trip. 

Later on in our weekend, we made the full walk along the Marginal Way, winding our way along the coast and down to Perkins Cove. For Mom, there were memories of Gram there as well, and we paused in a few key places, taking in the calm water and the sunny weather, as if they were a gift from those we had lost

Andy and I have memories here as well, and being in this place has always brought us peace. 

This was a trip of healing, and we did our best to bring comfort to Mom, and to ourselves. Cozy dinners at Walker’s and Roberto’s proved to be delicious choices, and our breakfasts on the wrap-around porch of the Scotch Hill Inn were sumptuous delights. They were the very best way to start the day, and I’m a fan of any scenario that allows you to remain in a robe and bed slippers while eating delectable food. 

Throughout the long weekend, I found myself drawn back to the sea, and I know Mom did too. We felt closer to Dad and Gram there, where they whispered to us through gulls and sea breezes, on the white foamy crests of incoming waves, and in the perfume of the sea roses that bloomed in defiance of the cold fall nights. 

There was beauty all around us, highlighted by the sun which deigned to shine on every day we were there – one of the only times that has happened to us during two decades of visiting Ogunquit. 

On the eve of our last morning in Maine, I took a solitary walk to the Ogunquit river. Reflecting the clouds beneath a blue sky, the water was calm – a broad expanse of beauty that provided the perfect landing pad for a seagull. 

I stayed there and watched the bird float along, a happy and healing reminder of how our trip began. 

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The Rain in Maine Falls Vainly On Our Vacations – Pt. 2

For the first decade or so of our spring visits to Ogunquit, it invariably rained and produced dismal weather for the unofficial start of the summer season, yet for all of those rainy times we never once let it get us down. Maybe it was the giddiness of being on vacation, or the beauty that surfaced even in the subdued grays and wet leaves all around us, or the delicious food that tasted even better when it was the highlight of the day – whatever the reason, we always embraced our time in Ogunquit

When the downturn in weather happened three days into this year’s summer kick-off, we simply pulled out a couple of umbrellas, slipped on an extra jacket, and went about the business of relaxing. On the cozy porch of the Scotch Hill Inn, we began with a glorious breakfast, setting the deliciously-languid tone for a lazy couple of days. 

Rainy weather does not make for a comfortable walk along the Marginal Way, so the only way to get to Perkins Cove for a lunch was by car. At our ever-advancing ages, the two-mile hike wasn’t missed. We found a place that looked over the cranky ocean, tumultuously throwing one of its spring tantrums and rocking several groups of water birds and their little offspring dangerously close to the shore. When faced with such a chill and a possible dampening of spirits, a platter of fried whole belly clams is an ideal antidote. Comfort food at its most simple and sublime. 

In the way that the universe will occasionally throw us a bone, the skies lightened a little by the time we finished lunch. After driving back to the Inn, I went for a walk while Andy napped, finding this little pocket of beauty and solitude following the rain. 

Rain does lend its own beauty to things, such as these forget-me-nots cradled among some rose-hued pansies. If I wasn’t on vacation, I’d likely be too preoccupied cursing the gray skies or cruel temperatures to notice them, but here I pause at each patch of flowers along my path, culminating at a stand of beach roses beside the outlet of the Ogunquit River.

The sun was still valiantly attempting to show itself before we departed (it always does so on our last morning in town – always) but on this afternoon it didn’t make much progress, and that evening’s dinner at Walker’s looked to be a fall-like affair. A June night that recalls the air of October is not something to be celebrated, yet our first experience at this restaurant was one of those happy twists of fate that worked out perfectly.

A roaring fire heated the main dining room, while a line of wood-fired ovens emanated more lovely heat. It was the coziest restaurant we’d been in for quite some time, and its warmth was the ideal setting for a chilly night. The food was as lovely as the atmosphere, and the service was even lovelier. (I’d remarked how much I liked the soap they used in the bathroom and our server managed to sneak a container of it to us at the end of the meal). We wished they had been open the next day as we would have made an unprecedented return to try them again (the menu was filled with too many options to test in a single sitting). 

It was a new restaurant for us, a happy surprise that rescued a rainy day, and the perfect ending to a spring trip that felt more like a tease than a promise fulfilled. That might be what fall is for, when Walker’s may be the newest jewel in Ogunquit’s culinary crown. That is how we will close this pair of vacation posts – with the idea of a fall return – ending on a note of cozy warmth to greet the summer yet to come. 

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The Rain in Maine Falls Vainly On Our Vacations – Pt. 1

Andy and I have been visiting Ogunquit, Maine regularly since 2000. It was the first place to which we traveled together, and will always hold special significance for me because of that. It has also provided the bookends of our summers – with the first trip usually taking place over Memorial Day weekend and the last closing things out in October. This year we were off by a week, which worked out in that we avoided most of the crowds, even if it was Pride Weekend. I overheard one of the servers telling their table that the best time to visit if you wanted something quiet was in the weekend following a holiday weekend, so our timing was fortuitous, and something to keep in mind going forward. 

We arrived on a sunny day, the kind that has often proved elusive on our Ogunquit visits. Home-base was once again the Scotch Hill Inn, which provides the best breakfast in town (and is reason alone to book this place, if the accompanying hospitality and comfort isn’t already more than enough). 

Our host Anthony graciously let us settle in, and after a quick unpacking we immediately headed to the beach and it seemed like there might only be two decent beach days. If there is one lesson we have learned over the decades of visiting Ogunquit, it is to make the most of the sun when it’s out. 

The ocean water was as cold as Maine ocean water usually is, but Andy reveled in it, planting his feet solidly on the shore and letting it surround him for the first time since last year; a year is a long time to be away from the healing power of the sea. 

Around dinner time, we walked a bit of the Marginal Way, which was resplendent with beach roses in pink and white (Rosa rugosa), sprinkling their perfumed magic along our path. I have yet to find a Tom Ford Private Blend that is as glorious as the scent of beach roses mingled with the ocean. 

The bench where I officially proposed to Andy was happily free, so we took a moment to pause and enjoy the view and the company. After twenty-three years of visiting this place, our gratitude took an easier and more relaxed form. Thinking back over all those years, it was both a marvel and exactly what I’d hoped for and envisioned when we first started coming here. The constancy of all that was before us was a comfort, as was the idea of all that was behind us. (And on cue Andy posed for just a couple of shots before tickling me and making it impossible to capture a non-blurry picture of us together.)

The next day was even warmer, the sun was shining in splendid glory, and we made it to the beach to make the most of it. Standing at the crux of land and water, I felt the frigid water roll past my feet, watching the reflection of the sun on the rippling little waves, sparkling like hundreds of white cranes fluttering back toward the sea. The beach has been casting the same spell over me since I was a child, and here I was at 47 years of age feeling its magic all over again

Joining Andy on a towel in a dry section of sand, I sat down and closed my eyes to do my daily meditation. To do so in such a location was a luxury and a treat, one that allowed for a deeper mindfulness and appreciation of where we were. One of the best things about mediation is that you can bring it with you wherever you go. 

As the tide began to roll in, we rolled our towels up and walked back to dress for dinner. Something about being at the beach always makes me extra-hungry. It had been a good two days of sun and fun, but the weather was about to turn, as it tends to do when we are in town… 

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The Eyes of Nostalgia

“Tired, tired with nothing, tired with everything, tired with the world’s weight he had never chosen to bear.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Beautiful and Damned

Celebrating the 20th year of this website has ushered me into a room of nostalgia and deeply-buried remembrances. Even our recent visit to Ogunquit had me revisiting our very first trips there, and as a preamble to those new posts, I dug up these photos from way back in 2003. The world was very different then. At that point in time, the post-9/11 atmosphere felt dark and tense, but looking back at it now feels so much more innocent and kind. Maybe the natural progression of life is toward a dimmer, darker place – or maybe that’s just my perception as I look back over the last twenty years of this blog and compare the world today as it was back then.

Taking more cues from Fitzgerald, who wrote in ‘The Great Gatsby that “life is much more successfully looked at from a single window” I am looking through a window that peers out onto the beach of Ogunquit, where my 28-year-old self is posing for pictures that Andy so graciously agreed to take, back when pictures of myself were a priority, and a way, I now see, of documenting the youth that we would all yearn for in some way.

While I’m glad to have had those youthful, mirthful days, I’m one of the more uncommon people in my circle of friends who doesn’t quite dread getting older as much as others seem to be doing. The wisdom gained is worth more than the svelte figure and thick, dark hair given in exchange for it. That may change a bit as our health concerns grow ever graver, but for now I’m ok with embracing the advance of age. The other option would be bitterness, and I’m bitter enough without adding something over which I have no control. 

Twenty years ago, our Ogunquit trips were usually made over Memorial Day weekend, and the vast majority were filled with rain and cold, dreary weather. Somehow we didn’t mind. It was enough being near the sea, listening to its calming rhythmic spell, even when it was wild and destructive. There was also something comforting about all the rain – it forced an appreciation for all else that was good and enjoyable – the delicious food (oodles of lobster and fish), the musical enchantment of a piano bar (back before bridal showers were such an obnoxious thing), and the simple hunkering down in bed with a then-new-boyfriend while outside the weather raged. That magic was something we would retain throughout the ensuing years, and no matter how much we cursed the rain when we were at home, we made our peace with it whenever we were in Maine. 

Our time in Ogunquit was often imbued with a warm, sepia tone of contentment and calm, and some bit of prescient understanding in those early days had me writing it all down in whatever notebook I brought with me. My favorite memories were not the fancy dinners at Five-O or the current show at Ogunquit Playhouse, but the simple moments of sitting at a cafe along Shore Road and notating our adventures as tourists and fellow-vacationers ambled by in the happy haze that being on vacation affords. 

“It was too late – everything was too late. For years now he had dreamed the world away, basing his decisions upon emotions unstable as water.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Beautiful and Damned’

For all of the changes that have come over the past twenty years, and the restaurant turnover alone would make your head spin if I tried to go through everything that has opened and closed in all that time, some things have remained surprisingly, and pleasantly, the same. While the lines that furrow the brow and frame the eyes don’t go away when we are out of the sunlight as they once did, the feeling of calm and tranquility that comes from any stretch of time on the beach has stayed constant. The water still goes in and out quicker and more dramatically than you think it will, the sun rises over the sea every morning even when it’s disguised by cloud cover, and thanks to some manipulation and care by local officials, the sand shifts and swirls but never completely disappears. 

Indulging in nostalgia is a trap I do my best to avoid – I find it hinders appreciation of the present moment – and my mind has typically focused on what is to come, living in the imaginary and hopeful world of future possibility rather than the still stagnant pictures of the past. There are benefits and drawbacks to both, and so I try to find a balance, reconciling the past and incorporating the lessons learned into some better future. Sometimes that helps in making more informed choices – sometimes it’s enough just being happy in the remembrance of beach days long past. 

“I don’t want just words. If that’s all you have for me, you’d better go.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Beautiful and Damned’

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Autumn In Ogunquit – Part 3

Closing out our autumnal trip to Ogunquit is always more difficult than ending our Memorial Day weekend in that Beautiful Place by the Sea. This will be the last time we set foot here until next year, and next spring. The whole rest of fall lies in the way, along with the entirety of winter, and so it is sally with heavy hearts that we say goodbye. This year, however, there was a certain peace to it, and a certain sense of hope as we talked over returning sometime in the winter, as well as our definite rendezvous come May. 

Maybe we’re just more resigned and accepting of the winter, and it doesn’t hold the same fright and sorrow as it once did. Maybe we are just resigned to life. And maybe we soaked all the calming beauty and wonder of Ogunquit into our souls so that we know we can bring some of it back to see us through the months until our next visit. I’m going with the latter. 

One thing that we already miss is the daily breakfast by Anthony, which is easily the best part of the Scotch Hill Inn (and there are more than several great parts). Every day brings another masterpiece, culminating with this decadent butternut squash risotto. I was in absolute heaven.

Andy is entirely enamored with Anthony’s mother Rita, who is sometimes on hand to help out when things get hectic – she is also a highlight of staying at the Inn. Good company makes for a great vacation. 

As the weekend wound down – and a full Harvest moon shone all her beauty over sea and shore – we soaked in every last minute of being in Ogunquit together. 

The looks back will be fond ones, and the looks ahead will be hopeful. 

After all these years, Ogunquit remains a treasured sanctuary for us, a little place where we are at our best and most content, and when you realize you can access that here, in some small way we can bring a little bit of it everywhere. 

Until the return of spring…

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Autumn in Ogunquit – Part 2

Most good vacations blend into one happy amalgamation of bonhomie and giddy memories, and I wouldn’t give you a hour-by-hour playback of our time in Ogunquit anyway – no one likes looking at someone else’s vacation photos. Of course, that is precisely what I’m showing there, but it’s my blog, and it makes me happy, and that’s the whole point of this place. Come back tomorrow if you don’t want to see the majesty of our favorite seaside town. No offense taken. For those who remain, come along for the sunny days of a fall weekend in Maine, touched by beautiful scenes, delicious food, and the best company a husband could ask for. 

One of the grounding mainstays of any trip to Ogunquit is the Marginal Way. Come rain or shine, we usually find our way to this rightfully celebrated stretch of shoreline, where a two-plus-mile path meanders along the Atlantic Ocean, lending beautiful vistas and calming places to pause and take it all in. 

This year we walked in through the back door, starting from the Perkins Cove end as we’d driven down. Normally we walk the whole thing, stop for lunch, then walk back again. That was in our youth. We aren’t that young anymore, and so we did about three quarters of it, then turned back to return to the car and pick up some pottery for Mom from Perkins Cove. It was a lovely twist on a tradition that lasted for twenty years, and we are at the point where we must celebrate departures from tradition as much as tradition itself. 

Ogunquit is a small town, and after visiting for over two decades there isn’t always that much new under the sun. Sometimes simply starting a journey at what was usually the back end lends a new jolt and a new perspective. The last part of the Marginal Way is our favorite section anyway, and this isn’t the time to delay gratification. 

Enough talk from me. Enjoy the views… one more post on Ogunquit to come… 

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