I was consumed yesterday with another writing project. I did not see the outdoors until mid-afternoon and, even then, it provided only a very brief respite from the tyranny of the work at hand.
Fog prevailed then as it does today. However, not all was lost. When I finally walked outside in what was a foggy sun, I strolled onto a narrow road where paths branched off into woodlands. I was not on the path for long when this apparition appeared.
There it was, a rather large empty hull, resting in this woodland graveyard.
The air was beginning to feel very damp, the kind that seeps into the marrow of your bones, so I decided to get back to the main road and though the path was long, dark, and mysterious, I finally saw the light of water through a cluster of autumnal-colored trees of dark reds, glittering golds, and blue-purple hues on their trunks.
Once again on the tiny “main” road, I walked a bit further and another harbor opened into view as fog descended rapidly from the ocean side as well as the mountains. One image after another took my breath away. For is there anything that literally stops a moment-in-time more than a harbor scene in Maine as a swirling, dancing fog creates an opacity of varying degrees to all one looks upon?
Alas, the tyrannical project was waiting my return. I was chilled and there was diminishing visibility as the minutes waned in concert with the fog’s descent.
Ensconced again in my temporary home, I made a pot of Assam tea … always freshly brewed and taken with milk. I stoically settled in for what I believed was an arduous task ahead, only to find that my fears were for naught. The writing proceeded more smoothly than earlier in the day, and to my delight was ninety-percent complete.
I mentioned earlier in this writing, that we have a thick, heavy fog today. However, I am near the end of my stay and am going to explore what I can of Schoodic Point, the southern most tip of Schoodic Peninsula. Because the Point lies fully exposed to the ocean, its rocky shore is pounded by powerful waves when storms birth huge swells in the Gulf of Maine. The surf can be spectacular, especially on BIG weather days and rogue waves have been known to sweep spectators off the rocks!
Visiting Schoodic Point is a return adventure for me from twenty-four years ago when I set out, somewhat reluctantly, on a very rainy day, to walk on the rocks-of-time. And, I hope, truly hope, I can provide you with some pictures and the story tomorrow.
In the gift of this new day,
in the gift of the present moment,
let me be thankful
let me be attentive
let me be open to what has never happened before.
~Excerpt from J.Philip Newell, Sounds of the Eternal