Mornings over Cobscook Bay

July 10.

It was a beautiful day.

At first, it seemed like it was going to be a cloudy day. I rolled over and fell back asleep. Several hours later, I was awoken by the sunlight that filtered gently through the window, before resting upon my face. I decided slowly to get up, and as I dragged myself out of the bunk I grabbed my sweatshirt. Up in Downeast Maine the weather could shift on a dime. It could look sunny, yet be cold as you stepped outside. You never know how to dress.

The Receding Tide. Photo By Colleen Ann.
The Receding Tide.
Photo By Colleen Ann.

It was a quiet morning at Cobscook Bay State Park. As I climbed out of our camping trailer, I couldn’t believe how bright it was. The clouds had burned off, to reveal deep blue skies. Only one or two small clouds dotted the sky. The moved slowly, and in now way threatened the nice day that was shaping up.

The sunlight came down, illuminating small drops of dew that clung to the grass. The air was warm, with a hint of wind to keep the bugs down. I disregarded the sweatshirt was as I made my way over to Dad. He was sitting in his old worn out lawn chair, facing towards the water. He was intently focused on his book by Thomas Merton. We greeted each other quietly. Since Moms passing the greetings have meant so much more. I made a quick cup of coffee, before settling down in a chair right next to him.

Clouds Burning Off.  Photo By Colleen Ann.
Clouds Burning Off.
Photo By Colleen Ann.

We missed her. The night before we left, we packed in a chaotic fashion that would have made her laugh. Before heading to bed we watched the Bostons Pops 4th of July spectacular. All I could think about while I watched the fireworks go up was her stories. Watching the whole thing from the Charlesgate Yacht Club, the fireworks in 1976.  In every step we took we could feel her absence. It had been almost a week since we had left home. Meals had been somewhat chaotic, but we muddled through it. We could take care of ourselves, she was just much better at it. I was not crying every night, but grief still caught me unaware.

Orange Moss on The Sisters. Photo By Colleen Ann.
Orange Moss on The Sisters.
Photo By Colleen Ann.

The tide was going out. As we drank our coffee and quietly talked, the ocean receded. It left rocks and seaweed bare to the sun. The mixed smells of seaweed and saltwater sat heavily in the air. Being so close to the Bay Of Fundy, the tides shift up to a foot every fifteen minutes, so you can watch the landscape change right before your eyes. The rocky shoreline pushed out many feet, creating a sudden beach. Causeways rose out of the water, giving us access to what had been islands hours before.  The current pulled the water to our left, towards the mouth of the bay. There the water would pass through  Reversing Falls before making it to the ocean. Yet the bay that was laid our before us was quiet.
The water was very still, and the far shore reflected serenely on the bays surface. Only the receding tide, and the slow current near the middle of the bay let us know what was happening.

After we dressed and had breakfast we did some exploring. Outside of our campsite there are two islands called The Sisters. During low tide, causeways allow access to both islands for a short period of time. We strapped on good shoes before treading precariously across the seaweed covered beach. The high sun beat down on us, as the last of the tide left the bay.

The Sisters at High tide/ Sundown. Photo By Colleen Ann.
The Sisters at High tide/ Sundown.
Photo By Colleen Ann.

The islands were quiet. We walked among the broken rocks, before finding solid ground near the top. There we looked out over the entire bay. We watched gulls flying carelessly across the expanse of water to destinations unknown. The fishing boats in the harbor spun lazily around their moorings. We stopped here and there, taking photos of shells and the orange sea lichen that was predominant on many of the rocks. It was nice to be together, remembering and making new memories.

Published by Colleen

My name is Colleen, and I am a writer and photographer from New Hampshire. I love exploring and discovering. I write pieces that focus around the history and landscape of New England, and other things that may come to mind.

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