I have lived near the ocean now for thirteen years.  When I lived in Salem (MA), I was about a block and a half away from the wharf.  It’s the only time I can recall really being in love with autumn after growing out of childhood.  On early autumn days in the morning, it would be foggy; the fog would be thick, and hang in the air with a palpable presence.  It muffled sound, much like the first fresh snow in the middle of a forest.  The salt in the air was almost tangible, and the light was a sepia/gray.  I loved walking to work on those mornings; I would take my time, as I didn’t live far from work, and I always made sure to inhale deeply.

When I first moved to Maine, Lenore was only a few months old, and we lived in Portland.  Not close to the water, but within some walking distance.  We strayed further inland for about a year, and then back to Portland.  After I ended my relationship with Lenore’s father, I moved to Biddeford, where my access to the ocean was a bit better.  I’d drive to Kennebunk beach, or Biddeford Pool, to be near the water.  Now, I live in Kennebunkport; when I step out on my porch, I get plenty of those foggy salty mornings, even during summer.  If I step out in the evening, I can hear the ocean’s waves not far away.

Walking along the beach is rejuvenating and energizing.  The sound of the water; the crisp salty breeze, the seagulls calling overhead.  There is something rather comforting about all of that.