Although
I live inland, the sea is not far away.
It’s close enough for a day’s outing and is more-or-less on the way to
my mother-in-law’s house. Sand beaches,
rocky outcroppings, small seaports, and lighthouses abound along the New
England coast, and visiting them never grows old. For many years now, we’ve made it our
practice to stop at some coastal point on the way to or from visiting Miss
Patty’s family. The children developed
several favorite spots, and all of us enjoyed these waterfront sojourns
tremendously, often wanting to stay longer than our time allowed. Because these seaside visits were neither
long enough nor frequent enough, they have become a case of absence making the
heart grow fonder. Sometimes I yearn to just
look at the ocean again, somewhat like wanting to visit an old friend or a
close relative.
I’ve
long thought it would be nice to live in a house set on a cliff overlooking the
Atlantic. I could see the ocean every
day then. Realistically, though, this
arrangement would probably not always be practical. In lieu of it, I content myself with day
trips and vacations and the taking of photographs. Seascapes have long been one of my favorite
art forms, and they are frequently the next best thing to actually being there. Accordingly, then, I’ve selected a batch of
recent seaside photographs to share here.
On Thursday, July 28, 2022, Miss Patty and I stopped at Fort McClary in Kittery, Maine, on the way home from her mother’s house. In this peaceful and pristine park that sits well off the beaten tourist path, we rested for a while and enjoyed the magnificent view of the entrance to Portsmouth Harbor. In this photograph, Whaleback Light stands on the left in Maine; on the right is the better known Portsmouth Harbor Light in New Hampshire. Beyond the two lighthouses lies the open Atlantic. On the extreme right, Fort Constitution guards the channel. Prior to the American Revolution, this facility bore the name Castle William and Mary in honor of England’s famous dual monarchs of the 1600s:
On
our last voyage from New England to New York, made on Wednesday, October 5, 2022,
I took this photograph of the fabled Plum Gut Light from the ferry Cape
Henlopen. Everyone in our family has
sailed past this lighthouse near the North Fork of Long Island many times. On this particular occasion, however, the
colors of the land, sea, and sky combined to form a unique canvass that made
this my favorite of all lighthouse photographs:
On Monday, October 9, 2023, we travelled to York, Maine, for a lunchtime rendezvous with my mother-in-law. While the food was good, I was much more interested in the adjacent oceanfront. A prominent feature of this oceanfront is the famous Nubble Light, situated on a small island across a narrow channel from Cape Neddick. One of the most iconic of American lighthouses, it attracts legions of sightseers and photographers all year round. Endowed by Nature with magnificent beauty, it is truly a sight to behold and by which to be inspired and edified. In this photograph, we see Nubble Light surrounded by the elements of earth, sea, and sky, manifestations of the natural sciences of marine geology, oceanography, and meteorology, all fascinating fields of study and all included in varying degrees on the Merchant Marine license exams:
Just to the right of the Nubble, we see the open Atlantic. If we zoom in with our trusty cell phone camera, we can discern Boon Island and its lighthouse on the horizon several miles offshore. Often invisible from the mainland because of clouds or fog, the Boon Island Light has long been and still remains an important aid to navigation. It is always a special treat to see this great sentinel of the sea on a sunny day with a clear atmosphere:
At
a nearby pier lay this unidentified cruise vessel. Not even Steven, with his young and healthy
eyes, could read her name. More
noteworthy, I thought, was this additional pileup of cumulus and borderline
cumulonimbus clouds. Not surprisingly,
it rained later that afternoon.
The duties of life have called me away from my waterfront “happy place” many times. While it was always sad to leave the sea and attend to business, I’ve always been grateful to have visited the seaside, even if only briefly, and to have been uplifted and edified by it. The oceanfront has long served me as a refuge from the commotion and contention of life. It is a place of peace and serenity, a place to enjoy the primordial beauty of Creation, a place to seek and experience Divinity, and a place to “be still and know that I am God” (D&C 101:16).