the sun finally appears at the end of a grey dayTonight is the last night of our Summer 2011 vacation at Oceanside. We'll be back in a few months in the fall, and we've been doing this seasonal Oceanside vacation thing for years now, but it never gets any easier to leave.
And I do mean years. As we were unloading our stuff when we arrived at the cabins, one of the proprietors was returning from a walk with a new employee. I was in the cabin putting things away as Sal was coming up the steps with the last load of stuff, and I heard her greet Sal warmly, then introduce him to the new person. "This is Salvatore," she said. "One of our regulars. You'll see him and his wife every three months. Like seasons."
sunlight on the cliffsExcept this year -- we skipped our March/April visit to save up so we could take the Olympic Peninsula trip for Sal's birthday. She noticed, too. When I went to check in a little later*, she remarked that they'd missed seeing us this spring. It's nice to be known like that. To be someone's regular.
*The front office was empty when we arrived. But we come so often that they just leave the cabin to our door unlocked knowing we'll check in at some point. Which is why we were able to start unloading the car and get settled in before they got back.
our vacation spot is so awesome it includes a tunnel to a secret beachWe had mostly gray sky for this trip, and a whole day of rain today, but it was comfortably temperate, warm enough that we could keep the windows open day and night without getting chilled. And we did get several hours on the beach despite the intermittent sun, with little wind. Enough to get a bit of sunburn, even. And today, which was rainy until late in the evening, we squeezed in a pleasant stroll on the sand. We snapped some pics and even made a short jaunt through the tunnel to the secret beach on the other side of the promontory before the tide got too high.
ending in sunburstOther highlights: continuing our tradition of starting a new show, which we watch once it gets dark and we're eating a late dinner or snack; starting a special book saved for the occasion -- The Wise Man's Fear, in my case, which I've been waiting for more than three months to begin and that's a testament to willpower, people, because goddamn, this series is brilliant; afternoon naps with the window open and the sound and smell of the ocean as we fall asleep; Sal's homemade cookies and orange chocolate chip scones; and of course our special crockpot roast stew, which no matter how many times we make it at home never tastes quite the same as it does at the coast.
But then, I guess that's true of a lot of things.
title taken from "North Atlantic" by Carl Sandburg