For the winter break, customary to environmental educators, we took advantage of the off-season vacation town next door. For the price of four weeks in the summer, we were able to rent out a beach house for four months.
We've traded the sounds of squirrels chucking acorns from the treetops for the sounds of waves at high tide. The groans and beeps of the plows, almost weekly, during snowstorms. Dogwalkers talking to their dogs as they passby the window. The neighbors' young children as they sprint up and down the staircase by our shared wall, the cooing of what we guess to be the neighbors' pet dove.
In the winter, here, it's easy to tell which houses are un-lived in, which restaurants survive by opening in the summer months only. (The snow lays thick and undisturbed around their doorsteps.)
After spending every other part of the year outside, beach vacations in the winter in Maine lend themselves to long hours indoors. Occasional long walks outside help us to keep perspective on our current position within the cyclical seasonal patterns. The beach makes for an ideal setting to watch the solstice eclipse, the equinox supermoon, sharing the beach a surprising number of people who gathered on the beach, looking up.
Next week, we pack our bags and move home. Time to start dressing in waterproof shoes again, scouring the landscape from morning until evening, looking for evidence of the end of winter, things coming back to life.
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