words + photo by Catherine Ritchie
“I am in love with Ocean
lifting her thousands of white hats
in the chop of the storm,
or lying smooth and blue, the
loveliest bed in the world.
In the personal life, there is
always grief more than enough,
a heart load for each of us
on the dusty road. I suppose
there is a reason for this, so I will be
patient, acquiescent. But I will live
nowhere except here, by Ocean, trusting
equally in all blast and welcome
of her sorrowless, salt self. “
– Mary Oliver, Ocean
Autumn comes early on the coast. The wind slips in and the air slowly sharpens.
In so many ways, the end of summer can ache. For as much as we may love fall, it symbolizes the end of warmth and light, readying us for the creeping fingers of winter.
Yet with the sea, there is always the promise of possibility. A vision of expectation and hope set far on the edge of the blue horizon. As Mary Oliver said it so beautifully, “I will live nowhere except here, by Ocean, trusting equally in all blast and welcome of her sorrowful, salt self.”
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