July 17, 2017 – One of my favorite places – York, Maine

NOTE:  This is from my July monthly Writer’s Group 

              assignment.

            Close your eyes and envision somewhere you have been before and then ask yourself the following questions:

1.     What got your attention in the scene you saw in your mind’s eye?

2.     Where was your focus, and why?

3.     What smells caught your attention?

4.     What did you hear?

5.     Did you taste anything?

6.     How was your sense of touch involved?

Your prompt for July is to write about this place, fictional or real, so that the reader is drawn into this setting.

This is a factual story:

        We arrived late afternoon and snagged a coveted, upfront parking space at Cape Neddick across from the Nubble light house in York, Maine.

        We spilled out of the car. Mom and I had leftover bread for the sea gulls as was usual for our pilgrimage to the famous light house and we walked out onto the smooth rocks overlooking the ocean gap between the mainland and light house island.

        The sky had a ridge of grey black clouds indicating a storm was brewing out at sea and the ocean breeze on our faces was robust and refreshing for late May.

        The gap, or better described as gully, where the usual tumultuous white capped, cross-cut and dangerous waves normally were, was empty. No ocean waves.  The gully was dry. Only dry rocks, well-worn cobbles, and clumps of sea weed baking in the late afternoon sun could be seen.   It took us a few moments to actually comprehend that one could walk over to the island, to the ‘nubble’ if you were nimble and adventurous.

        “Someone’s pulled the plug.”  My Dad said shaking his head in amazement.

        “I thought it was deeper than this.” I exclaimed as I moved forward to get a better look at the deep gully understanding why so many visitors were about this afternoon.  

        “Don’t get too close to the edge,” Called my Mom as she opened the bread wrapper.

        The strong ocean breeze blew my hair from my face and I could smell the aroma of drying sea weed.  The few active sea gulls walked closer now seeing we had bread and cocked their heads.  The lack of crashing ocean waves on the rocks created a mystical hush so foreign to the place. 

        Normally, the gulls would be cawing, squawking, and swirling overhead, but, I saw only a few airborne. Many gulls walked on the dry rocks, and others sat on the grassy island.

        Mom and I tossed up the bread pieces and not one gull caught them on the fly or even when they landed.  As adults we were as disappointed as losing ice cream from a cone.

        “Well, I never . . . .”  My Dad shook his head. His shoulders dropped a bit as he stuck his hands deep in his pants pockets and wandered over to a group nearby.  A man had caught his attention who was lecturing visitors.

        I scrunched the plastic bread wrapper and stuffed it in my pocket as I took one long sweeping study of the dry gully. I then, licked my dry lips and smiled at the salty taste. 

Back at the car, Dad met us saying,

        “That fella over there said that storm brewing out to sea is part of it, but it’s called an extreme low tide of the new moon.”

        “All these years we’ve come here and we’ve never seen it dry.  Isn’t that something?”  Mom answered.

        “And me, I didn’t bring my camera,” I said getting into the car.

        As Dad slowly closed his car door he mused out loud.

“And, uncooperative sea gulls.  Who will believe us?”

For a history, pictures and more of the Cape Neddick, “Nubble” Light house in York, Maine see:

http://www.newenglandlighthouses.net/cape-neddick-nubble-light-history.html