New England Spring

Even in the parking lot, New England politeness shows in the way the few cars present are parked far and away from each other. We give each other space; a choice in how close we wish to get to one another. With the corners and fence taken, I park at the edge in front of the native pines and invasive phragmites. I can hear the wind even as I sit within and change my shoes.

The same politeness is found on the paths and sands. We are alone together with the surf and wind.

It is the spring equinox and the day is overcast, damp, and chilled. This is the moody coast the region is known for. The sky has disappeared and the horizons are faded from the distant fog. Even the birds are tired and quiet, only occasionally the herring gull calling out; preferring to fly or bob on the water. We are all tired.

But the salt air is losing its sweet, winter smell. The slow creep to summer has begun.

The trees along the remaining dunes of a tired coastal system continue to lean back from the ocean winds which continue to press against them. Even the sound is no real protection from the Atlantic’s gusts and they must bear the force while keeping anchored to fragile substrate; helped by the thick root mats of the beach grass.

I take the sandy path behind the dune, behind the trees in protection from the strengthening wind. I can still hear the waves rushing along the sand. I can see how this space used to be before the uninvited homes were built and gutted the coast along Long Island Sound.

The shrubs and grasses are still asleep.

There is plenty of flotsam, litter, and debris today. Large, long suffering driftwood have appeared; temporary markers at the edge of the water to disappear with high tide.

It is fun to stand on the large, weathered log to survey the area.

Sun bleached and salt-corroded, the plastics lay brittle; scattered. Some pieces are fresh litter while the rest have journeyed far to lie among the slipper shells and dried, shriveled seaweed and detritus also laid onto shore by the same waves. A recently deceased gull lies among them — sad, jarring.

As I take my photos, I am surprised by a black lab which has bounded up to me to say hello. The owner apologizes as I give the dog some head pats before it returns to its owner and we continue on our opposite ways.

I come across another person but while he is at the water’s edge I am along the high tide line. He slowly makes his way along, bending down to gingerly pick up a shell to inspect before dropping it back into the water. He shuffles along, repeating his inspection. He repeats this as we makes his way down the beach. I don’t know what he is looking for but I understand the process. He registers my existence but makes no acknowledgement. The New England politeness continues so I continue on my own way.

The driftwood stumps I saw at the beginning of my wandering are now half covered in waves. The tide is beginning to come in and soon there will no longer be the firmer, damp sand to tread. Some of the litter and debris will be claimed and reclaimed by the ocean. They could make it to the other shore on the other side of the sound or to open ocean.

Gulls tread water and fly around. The usual songbirds are outnumbered. The still yellow beach grass rustles and rattles with the strengthening wind. I’m ready to return home and sit in the warmth as I wait for warmer days and the summer solstice.

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Thank you for reading and checking out my photography. I love to wander around coasts and nature in general with my film cameras. Looking through supports me and a tip is always appreciated but not expected. Feel free to subscribe if you so want.

I hope you have a chance to explore the nature near you and wherever you visit.

Camera used for this piece is the Instax Mini 99.