Blue-Footed Musings

I stopped at Silver Sands in Milford on my way home from CT on Wednesday. It was a long walk down the boardwalk to get from the parking lot to the beach. And it was hot.

The moon was out, and that was cool, if not cooling. Can you see it in the picture?

I was wearing dark jeans, so I wasn’t just hot, I was HOT. And everyone was looking at me. Their expressions seemed to say, “Are you nuts?”

Someone (not the bird) even told me I was nuts. At least I think he did. But he was an old guy with a thick foreign accent, so I’m not sure. For all I know he was saying that he wanted some of my dinner, which I was carrying in a bag. He said lots of things to me, most of which were unintelligible. But I’m almost certain he wanted me to splash in the water with him.

I didn’t.

I took more pictures, though, and everyone lined up to get in them.

I noticed a little copse of birch trees. I think it must be concealing the den of some magical creature. Whatever the creature is, it is friendly with birds, but I feel certain it would not like me to visit, or you, or anyone like us. Because if it wanted us to visit, it wouldn’t have surrounded itself by marsh like this.

Then I spotted this bench and I thought it looked like a nice spot to eat.

But at that time it was almost completely surrounded by gulls. I didn’t want to have to fight them for my dinner. What can I say? Having been previously jumped by a duck over a sandwich, chased by a goose over a cigarette, and dive-bombed by a blue jay for getting too close to its babies, I’ve got issues with birds. Caution is the word.

So I sat instead on a broken part of the boardwalk down the beach, just a few feet from the water. I ate my food and watched people as they swam or jogged (ye gods!) or fished. There were birds everywhere, including little guys who zoomed over my head like tiny stealth jets. I listened to the waves and the distant hum of boats. I remembered other pleasant trips to the beach. The sun slammed down on me like a sledgehammer, but in a good way, if you know what I mean. In short, it was wonderful.

Then I had to walk back down the beach, and I was starting to develop blisters on my feet, because my shoes were as inappropriate for a beach walk as my jeans were. I drank the last of my water, and suddenly the world felt hotter than it ever had at any point in my life. And then I had to walk back down the boardwalk, which had somehow grown longer, to get back to my very hot car.

Did I mention that it was hot?

So the beach was lovely, as always, but the heat was not, not, not!