Blogging continues uninterrupted.
A little of everything at
seven AM. Contrails, dark
clouds, light clouds, sunrays,
sunlight, blue sky, sand, waves.
At 7:15, I’m at the
Coffee Mill.
Sang two songs on the
walk: Nessun Dorma
to start… And would
have stayed with this
throughout, but the
Coffee Mill had a Piaf
imitator piped in,
singing Sous le Ciel de Paris,
so UD had no choice
but to perform that one.
… for my unseasonably hot, early morning, two miles up and back, Rehoboth Beach boardwalk march.
Everybody on the boardwalk is old.
Rehoboth is a Quiet Resort – not as quiet as some, but definitely not noisy. A pallid Spring Break. No Floatopia. Rehoboth attracts tanned and well-turned oldies.
At the walkway’s midpoint, in front of a white bandstand, three starched nurses holding a STROKE AWARENESS poster have attracted a crowd.
Nathanael West could write this up, thinketh UD…
As UD powers by the nurses, she hears “Totally make relaxation time for yourself… long bath…”
**************
Do retired people really need this advice she wonders, but what’s really going through her mind is Richard Dawkins, who she admires and who has had a stroke.
The thought of Dawkins sets her off, as she swings her arms and plants her heels, on God and not-God, which occupies her for the duration.
***********************
Men in Mini Corvettes.
***********************
Meanwhile, in Virginia,
La Kid picks a pumpkin.
I did not.
Last night and
this morning,
Rehoboth Beach.
But both are slowly being recovered – the stands by the Coast Guard, and the way of life by wise citizens and a responsible local government.
It’s the same deal as in UD‘s beloved Garrett Park (type in 20896): Profiteers are always going to want to get rich off of prized locations, and the way you do it is by building immense houses and taking down the trees and the neighborhood. Rehoboth, like Garrett Park, is struggling to defend itself.
Les UDs now begin the trek back to Garrett Park.
Today was a little overcast, so instead of
swimming in the Atlantic, UD and her
sister visited a lavender farm
in Milton Delaware.
The farm has a swing on which
UD sat, gazing at cornfields
across the way.
****************
UD thanks her sister
for taking the pix.
It’s 8:30, and boats of all sorts are gathering at the shore across from the Star of the Sea apartments. Fishing boats, yachts, cruisers jammed with sightseers. Long lines of folding chairs have been set up along the beach for the big event.
There’s a breeze, the sky is clear, night’s coming on. So far so good.
*********************
Blue velvet sky, blue velvet sea. The waves press in, the lit-up ships list. Their engines throb as they inch closer. A helicopter circles. On the beach, glow sticks dance.
*********************
Officially dark now, and things should start happening soon. Though it’s already quite a spectacle – the crowds, the bright shining boats, the throbbing engines and the throbbing sea.
**********************
Whew. Ol’ UD‘s emotionally exhausted. The display started quietly, of course, with pleasant little golden streamers here and there. But it quickly began flaring out and up with tutti-frutti bursts all over the sky. Louder and louder rocket reports vibrated the air. The final red white and blue explosions were frenzied and beautiful and we all clapped and hooted.
The moon emerges like a night sun out of cloud bands.
Au fond, I’ve always come to the beach more for the sky than the water – the sunrises, the moonrises. (Au fond each summit is a cul-de-sac, as one of James Merrill’s most adorable lines has it.)
Tomorrow night’s the big Rehoboth fireworks display on the beach just outside our apartment; tonight was a smaller show at neighboring Dewey Beach, along with, more spectacularly, a string of small red and yellow explosions all along the Jersey shore, easily visible from our balcony. It reminded me of one July Fourth evening in upstate New York, when suddenly pyrotechnics emerged between two distant Catskill peaks.
Why do these silent far-off displays move me more than big crackling in your face shows? They seem a natural event, the earth itself celebrating the country; and their miniature gaiety has a modesty far more attractive to me than the bombast of the bomb blasts.
… a retreat from the pettiness and divisiveness of the real world.
Of course UD will continue blogging from the beach, as she has always done.
The lake is near the beach.
Very strange weather here at Rehoboth. Close to the beach, it’s moodily overcast. As you walk from the beach, things suddenly clear up.