Home again it is cool, windy, dry. We notice the familiar smell of smoke from a wildfire somewhere to the south. Strong afternoon winds blow it towards our opened windows and doors. Smoke haze diffuses the mountains until they resemble mirages of mystery. Second full day back and I'm processing an intensely positive week in Connecticut. I've returned to the east coast often during the nearly two decades since we left and never feel nostalgic when it is over. I like coming home to northern New Mexico.
This time something is different. I am remembering what I loved about living on the northeast coast. The water of course. Long Island Sound, Atlantic Ocean, Narragansett Bay. Giant oaks and maples, woods filled with sun shadows, deep green light. The fecund profusion of multi-colored flowers in well kept grassy yards (not that our yards were ever well kept). Fishing boats laden with the day's catch. I miss shopping in seafood markets with piles of crushed ice under just-caught bluefish that we bought and sauteed for dinner in olive oil, garlic and fresh dill.
The stacks of lobster pots outside the seafood market and restaurant makes me think of the shawl I'm knitting (only 10 inches so far) with yarn dyed in Cape Cod lobster pots. How romantic is that! My yarn is a gorgeous wavy tealy blue - maybe I should have considered yellow? Who knew lobster pots come in colors now? I don't know how many more of these shawls I'll knit before it's out of my system so I'll try to vary my color choice next time - I seem to be stuck on sages and blues.
Today I unearthed my old coffee table book of Joel Meyerowitz's photographs, A Summer's Day. Whenever I catch this intense coastal fever I bring out the book and leave it around until I recover.
a flower pot from Capri.
I am torn by tides and longings.
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