The Pleasure of My (Own) Company
The northeast wind blew attitude, the sky was bloated with abundant sunshine (don't you just love the word abundant?) and the temperature was in the mid-fall range. Fate intervened this past week, giving me a much needed morning out of the studio. I had to make the trip down to Salvo to deliver some work and see a friend I rarely get to visit with, especially during tourist season. The ocean glittered, full of diamonds and pearls as Prince and I let loose at full volume while crossing the Oregon Inlet bridge, one performing much better than the other.
Vibrant patches of goldenrod were the first things I noticed on the drive in sharp contrast to the browning sea oats bending in the wind. These clumps of yellow dot the dunes and roadway for miles. This year the grasses were glowing in brilliant shades of green, probably from the recent rains, looking like the seasons can't decide if they are coming or going. Canary yellow machines prowled the road and climbed sand piles, scooping and pushing sand off the roadway and fortifying the dunes for the nor'easters that are sure to punch the coastline over the winter. At the southern end of the ponds at Pea Island I spied small flocks of snow geese, a surprise since it seems too early for them to be here. And the new inlet formed by last year's hurricane briskly rolled in rippled water, flowing steadily under the narrow, temporary bridge. A line of vehicles kissed each other's bumpers, squeezing onto the sandy shoulder, discharging fishermen to try their luck with whatever chances to swim through the inlet.
"Being solitary is being alone well: being alone luxuriously immersed in doings of your own choice, aware of the fullness of your own presence rather than of the absence of others. Because solitude is an achievement."
- Alice Koller