There's nothing like a hot Saturday in July at the seashore, especially if Frank agrees to sit way at the end of the beach, toward Prout's Neck, beyond the life guards and hoards of people with blankets nearly touching each other. We sit quietly and watch the sun sparkle off the waves, read, nap, chat occasionally, bask in the heat of the sun on our bodies, dream and plan future vacations or places we must see someday. I wear my straw hat.
As wonderful as those days are, if I have to pick my favorite, favorite kind of day, that wouldn't be it despite how much I enjoy it. My favorite day is pouring rain or lightly snowing, especially early in winter, before I'm sick of gray and barren and snow. It could be a day just after a holiday when all is quiet. No one calls; we've just spent lots of time with them. No one visits.
I run early in the morning. I run better in the rain or snow, perhaps because truly I'm dying to get back inside so don't stop or slow down. I was told when living in London that rain is great for a woman's skin; I always remind myself of that as cold water drips off my ball cap and rain soaks through my running pants turning my thighs beat red.
On the gray afternoons, I light candles, turn on soft lights in the daytime, and pull inward. If my chores are done, I love to while away the hours in quiet cerebral pursuits.
I write. I move from laptop to PC, room to room, chair to chair. I listen to soft music, especially Sarah McLachlan's Wintersong or Sting's If On a Winter's Night. I read. I look at pictures in beautiful books I've saved for just such afternoons. I have a cup of coffee at 2:00 and a glass of wine at 4:00. I let my mind wander and peacefully dream. I love the quiet. I love the solitude. I love the seasons that foster this introspection....for this, I live in Maine.
