Category Archives: Ogunquit

The best part of a rain spell is when it’s over. The sudden ceasing of the falling from the sky, the gradual straightening of plant stems, the re-opening of flower buds – it’s like morning all over again whenever it happens. The rain also dresses things up – cleaning off pollen and dirt and leaving behind transient diamonds of water on the plainest of leaves.

It affords more colorful garb for those of us trying to stay dry too. Every man should own one raincoat, whether it’s Burberry or bright yellow, and the latter is sometimes more fun. (Especially when paired with pink pants.)

In the end, though, nothing beats the wardrobe in which Mother Nature adorns herself. I could never compete.

Is it meta to be reading ‘To the Lighthouse’ by Virginia Woolf while en route to see a lighthouse on the coast of Maine? I don’t know – mainly because I don’t really know what ‘meta’ means. Whether it is or not, that was the glorious predicament in which I found myself three days into our Ogunquit vacation. The Nubble Lighthouse is an oft-photographed and much-visited tourist attraction just a short drive down the coast from Ogunquit. It’s on an island just off-shore, and cannot be reached by bridge.

On this day, when conditions forbid a walk on the beach or the Marginal Way, we take the scenic Shore Road route to the lighthouse. Upon arrival, the winds whip wickedly upon the shore, and the waves are crashing violently against the rocks. The rain finds ways of pelting both from above, and from the sides – a vertical and horizontal attack that manages to invade the most tightly-buttoned hood. Yet the scene is, despite all discomfort, breathtakingly beautiful – rife with the kind of beauty that doesn’t translate to photos. It’s a gray sort of gorgeousness, lost among the missing vibrancy of what’s supposed to be a bright blue sky, studded with white puffy clouds and a clear sun.

It’s the kind of beauty that resonates more deeply than the flashy pomp and circumstance that often populates these posts. It’s the antithesis of what almost everyone thinks of me, and as such it is the sort of beauty that’s always touched me the most ~ the sort that lasts.

It begins, as it usually does, softly ~ with a slow, deliberate entry. Once we cross the bridge from New Hampshire into Maine, the guard comes down, the shoulders descend, the gradual letting-go begins. After a rainy drive through New York, Massachusetts, and New Hampshire, the clouds appear to be parting for a moment, and a brief bit of sun peeks through.

It appears Maine is just a few weeks behind us as far as blooms go, and it’s a perfect bit of timing: the lilacs are resplendent and at their prime. Even a few Poet’s narcissus are in their small-cupped glory. Andy mentions that this is our third flush of spring – first Boston, then Albany, and now Ogunquit. It is an elegantly auspicious beginning to another Memorial Day weekend – the unofficial start of summer.

Like the shoreline itself and sometimes unseen by those who don’t notice such things, Ogunquit varies from year to year – and especially from spring to spring. Winters in Maine can be, and usually are, rather brutal. Bridges get washed out, paths lose their way, and signs get torn down. The way things were left in the fall is rarely the way things remain in the spring.

This year the town seems to be slow to awaken – or at the very least stunted by a tough winter. Construction and renovations are in progress at many sites. We arrive early for the holiday weekend (to avoid the cumbersome traffic), and find a place in flux. But it’s good to see. It means the return of spring. The coming of summer. The signs of hope.

As we cross the first sign that says ‘Beautiful Place By the Sea’, a calm comes over us, and everything we left behind stays behind until we cross the sign again. Ogunquit has become a place of refuge, a home-away-from-home where the baggage of real life can be forgotten for a few days. I’ve always found peace wherever the sea meets the land. There’s something about that line between two worlds that appeals to my love of transition. It’s the place where water and stone collide in ways that are beautiful and dangerous, peaceful and primal.

There are lessons to be gleaned from the shore of learning. The timing of the tide, the pull of the moon, the ever-lapping tongue of time licking our lives into submission. The power and might of a storm, the ceaseless wind, the salty erosion. It is the perfect place to cull a sense of humility, for we are all at the mercy of something greater than ourselves. There is comfort here as well – in the shaded spaces between rocks, the tiny tidal pools that protect a few lucky sea creatures until the return of life-giving water, or the quiet sunrise that sets another day in motion. Looking out over the expanse of the ocean, it is impossible to feel very big about yourself. There is nothing more grounding than the shoreline. It will always be a balm upon the heart.

Once upon a time I was young and lithe on Ogunquit Beach…

Today Andy and I depart on our annual Memorial Day weekend jaunt to Ogunquit, Maine, so from here on out please do your best to remain interested in pre-programmed posts, and I’ll do my best to keep things interesting. There won’t be a big naked reveal like last year, but there will be other fun things to tide you over until our proverbial boat returns early next week. Since this marks my thirteenth year of visiting Ogunquit, I think I’ve already hit upon the basics of my love for the town numerous times (like here, here, here, here, and here for example). I won’t rehash or reiterate while I’m away, as there will likely be new adventures to recap upon my return. Instead, perhaps a pastiche of memories, culled from our years visiting such a fair location… but first, a few photos of the Beautiful Place By the Sea.

For 2008’s holiday photo card, it was a softer year, and when I saw this shot that Andy had taken of me on our Fall trip to Ogunquit, I knew that was it. Originally, I was going to be even less of a presence in the photo, but this one was unobtrusive enough. It’s not only my outfit and placement that is subtle and subdued, but also the coloring. Shot along the Marginal Way, it is probably one of my most peaceful cards. Some years you need a little peace.

Every trip to Ogunquit requires a stop at the Spoiled Rotten. It’s actually an entire enchanted world unto itself. Stepping into its sweetly-scented environs is like entering a magical land of whimsical treats, beautiful home items, and delights for all five senses. Around every corner is a new surprise waiting to amuse and charm, to tease the nose and tempt the tongue.

From the gorgeously decked-out front porch to the furthest corner of the upper floor, there are stunning objects stacked from floor to ceiling, and one could feasibly spend hours in each of the rooms, perusing and examining all of the wonders at hand. The owners are just as inviting as their wares, and even more animated and entertaining. One of them, Toby, was even working on his birthday.

That love and dedication comes through – even if the goods weren’t this exquisitely gorgeous.