Dear friends,
There’s nothing quite like waking up early and taking a walk along the beach when the rest of the world is sleeping. A red sun reflects off the mostly still lake. A lone seagull flies low. Sadie and I are the only humans on this spot at the moment.
Our first night in the teardrop camper went smoothly. To celebrate, we make pancakes and bacon over the campstove and a pot of coffee to fill our large mugs. The bacon and maple syrup come from the Goshen farmers’ market. Why does everything always taste better in this setting? Maybe it’s because we’re living in the outdoors where the change in air brings out the flavors. Maybe it’s because we use more energy when the whole day is spent outdoors.
After breakfast, we head to the beach with our camping chairs to finish our coffee. Sadie gets her first full playtime in the water as we sit and watch the ever changing scenery. Water, sand, sky. A lone paddler on the horizon. The beach is still mostly empty as the sun rises higher.
Later, back at the campsite, I read, Jim paints, Sadie sleeps. We’re losing track of days and hours. Our bodies tell us what to do.
Midafternoon finds us again at the beach. As I swim, play in the water with Sadie, then lay down on my beach towel to dry, I think to myself, “This feels no different than when I was thirty.” We used to come here every other year with our daughters and, with them, I would spend hours on the beach, playing, tanning (yes, it was back in those days), swimming and reading. That combination of sun and sand that leaves your skin clean and burnished is so familiar.
Now, it’s time for a walk, a preprandial drink, then supper and a final round of reading around the campfire. We can’t stay awake much longer. The camper bed calls.
Sights of the day: a line of dogs retrieving balls in the water, bright green moss growing on the sand, deep blue sky framing tall, tall pines.
Time away like this gives us a reset: what is truly important in our everyday? What truly matters? When not surrounded by our usual life, we rediscover meaning.
Can you smell the campfire, the pines, the water?
Wish you were here,
Rachel
P.S. Since we’re mostly off the grid, these letters are coming to you as they can! Thanks for your patience!