(To give you some perspective, this is a picture I posted to Middle Passages two weeks ago, on a mildly windy day in mid October.)
Yesterday on the way to complete some weekend errands, my husband and I took a detour to the water. It’s sort of a tradition, I guess, when you live by the coast, to do an ocean drive-by when there’s been inclement weather. So, we buckled ourselves into the car and made the trip across town under the partial sun that had erased most of the remnants of Saturday’s storm.
It doesn’t matter how many times we’ve seen it. When we turned the corner over Cunningham Bridge and saw the ocean spewing and sloshing as if deep down, some middle earth agitator had gone mad, we both yelled: “Oh my!”
Our car made tracks in the sheet of sand glazing the beach parking lot. Pulling up to the sea wall, we stared as the normally placid waters of Massachusetts bay rose up, heaving and spewing; regurgitating itself over the exposed granite ledges.
But, when the white foam of a monster wave crashed over Minot Lighthouse a mile out, we drove back home and got the cameras.