The sun made a rare and welcome appearance yesterday and many of us seized the opportunity to break from the confines of the four walls which have shackled us too long and headed on a wandering.
For me, the scope of the dunes always lures me when a fit of cabin fever has taken me too far away from all that most inspires me.
The desert has always been revered for its mysticism but here on Cape Cod we have the rare blend of desert and sea, the majestic slope of dunes intermingling with a cobalt stretch of water that never ceases to raise your sights.
Here is the artist's palette, the small child's joy, the dog's wild chase and the jaded adult's smile returning. And here is all that we really must remember about this place -- despite our misery over the weather.
I toss a rock out to sea for luck as I look back over my shoulder at a gull and spot a loon far out on the water while an elderly couple with a small dog walk by me, happy for the sun and just to be here, recalling the smell of salt air and the feel of sand crunching beneath their feet.
Here is where past and present intersect, a sense of timelessness that occurs only in certain places. Living memories are banked in both dunes and sea, intersecting with us and filling us with an energy we barely comprehend but we know exists; we know it well enough to return here for replenishment when we are in need of it.
"Look to the waters" said an eighteenth century prophet in response to how to gain both perspective and understanding. As facile as the advice might seem in this modern day and complex world, there is still truth within those words.
And as I headed back to the parking lot hearing children's laughter as a bright red kite sailed over my head, I noticed that I suddenly felt as light and carefree as both the children and the kite.