Tuesday, March 3, 2020

On Sunday morning, Delycia and I took a three-mile walk on Barn Island, and it was both an exhausting and inspiring hour for me. The weather was seriously freezing, but fortunately we were mostly protected from the wind by the shoreline trees. We did, however, have to walk long distances across the marsh, with wind whipping against our faces, and I was always fairly weary by the time we reached the shelter of the trees again. However, who would not be roused by the views across the waters of Block Island Sound, even on a frosty March morning? The sea and the sky and the distances were just as stunning on this windy winter morning as they would be at the height of summer’s loveliness. As I breathed heavily in my fatigue, I felt grateful for being right there in the freezing wind on a splendid shore with my very best friend.

Yesterday, on another frosty, gusting morning, we drove to Watch Hill for a walk to Napatree Point and back, and, like Sunday, it was a tiring but uplifting adventure for me. I especially loved seeing the various patterns the winds and surf had made in the sand – all kinds of swirls and curves and circles – which reminded me of our many long walks on the beaches of Sanibel Island. It was a contemplative – almost prayerful – walk for me, a chance to let the sea and sky and sand speak about the magnificence of every single present moment.

This morning, we walked three miles along lovely River Road on a surprisingly mild morning, feeling an early smile of spring around us. There were the usual – you might say ‘ordinary’ – sights as we walked along, but somehow I was able to see them in a fresh kind of way, as though even bare trees and electrical wires are somehow wonderful.

We passed the house that we have often wondered about – does anyone live there? … why is it so run-down? – and even that old, slummy place seemed somehow singular and astonishing. I guess even what appears to be disarray can contain an enchanting kind of charm.