← Gone Away
Ocean Thoughts
In a previous post, The Sea And Me, I wrote of my experience of the sea and how it affected me to spend much of my early years close to it. Since then I have rarely visited it and do not feel that strong pull towards it, as some do. It remains an old friend and I have always looked forward to the chance to see it again; from the age of eleven those chances were few and far between, however.
And now, for the first time since 1958, I live near the sea. Back then, it was the meeting point of two oceans, the Atlantic and Indian, for Cape Town, the city of my childhood, stands on a peninsula between them. Now I rest on a New England shore and gaze across the cold North Atlantic to the old country that shares these waters.
Just as the land here bears echoes of England, so the Atlantic is the same and yet different. The water is cold, but not quite as frigid as the seas around Britain. That toe-curling first shock of the water's touch is not as sharp here. The Atlantic still does that slate gray seascape every bit as well as it does around Britain, but there are days here when it relents and pretends to a sunny and blue appearance.
Like so much of America, the ocean is the same but more so. Here it is capable of storms and blizzards that might tear the old island away from Europe and set it adrift. And equally, it can smile and shimmer in the heat in a way that is almost unheard of in England. It is Devon in midsummer and Cornwall's north coast in midwinter and then some. As ever, America remains the land of extremes.
And now, for the first time since 1958, I live near the sea. Back then, it was the meeting point of two oceans, the Atlantic and Indian, for Cape Town, the city of my childhood, stands on a peninsula between them. Now I rest on a New England shore and gaze across the cold North Atlantic to the old country that shares these waters.
Just as the land here bears echoes of England, so the Atlantic is the same and yet different. The water is cold, but not quite as frigid as the seas around Britain. That toe-curling first shock of the water's touch is not as sharp here. The Atlantic still does that slate gray seascape every bit as well as it does around Britain, but there are days here when it relents and pretends to a sunny and blue appearance.
Like so much of America, the ocean is the same but more so. Here it is capable of storms and blizzards that might tear the old island away from Europe and set it adrift. And equally, it can smile and shimmer in the heat in a way that is almost unheard of in England. It is Devon in midsummer and Cornwall's north coast in midwinter and then some. As ever, America remains the land of extremes.