Beach Days

A calm evening following a hot day. The hay fields are lush and not far from a second cutting. Our local farmers’ markets are abundant with fruit and vegetables, and our refrigerator is overflowing with yesterday’s market finds. 

We’re just back from the beach, where we waded about and managed a picnic in the large shelter where, after a few minutes of relative quiet, we found ourselves in the midst of seriously contested boom-box melee. Being under the protective roof of the pavilion we were out of the sun but subject to the relatively loud volume of the competing playlists. The tumult reminded me of a Charles Ives symphony, only one that he might write were he alive now. I kept feeling annoyed, then imagining that were Ives with us he would most likely be ecstatic. That helped.

Out on the water a small armada of pleasure boats had gathered just outside the swimming area. We assumed they had their own carefully chosen musical selections, a soundtrack to their private fantasies about the day.

As evening fell the lifeguards left their stations but the boats remained. We stayed a few more minutes, watching beach goers pack up and leave and the seagulls take back the park. Tomorrow is forecast to be hotter and more humid, one of those summery days that used to be rare here in Vermont but which have become more common in recent years. We’re hoping for much-needed rain beginning tomorrow night. It looks as though the rain will hold off til after dark so most likely the beach will be thronged again tomorrow.

I imagine more than a few folks will take tomorrow off from work and who can blame them? Most of us want to take advantage of all the warmth and sun we can, knowing we are already well into the second half of summer and cool weather is just weeks away. Even now those who complain about the heat are likely to face a chorus of, “Tell us about it come January.”

Speaking of January, every few years some hearty group of souls will throw a January luau on the snow-covered beach. Some of them may even venturing into the ice clogged waters of the lake. Ah, but that is another story.