Our very first trip to Ogunquit, Maine occurred in the late summer days of 2000 – almost twenty-four years ago. It was our first vacation anywhere together, and neither Andy nor myself knew or had an idea of how it might play out. Just three months into dating, it could have gone any number of ways, but the weather was behind us – glorious sunny days of early September – and our mutual desire for one another kept us consistently entertained in our knotty pine room. Most people can get along in those early days of dating; it’s how they fare twenty-plus years into things that is the true test of love and time.
We made our Memorial Day weekend pilgrimage to Maine on a sunny day that soon threatened a storm, but we had some time before that quick bit of rain, and in one of those happy strokes of floral timing, the lilacs were in full bloom (a couple of weeks after ours in upstate NY had finished their show). Usually the most magical perfume is when the beach roses mingle with the sea-spray along the Marginal Way – on this trip, it was lilacs and sea salt – and it beat all the cologne bottles I brought along for the journey.
In the quickly-closing window of time before an anticipated spell of rain, Andy and I made a short walk to have a snack and take in the sea. The instant its blue-green shade comes into view, and its intoxicating marine perfume delightfully tickles the nose, a calm invariably comes over our countenance. It’s immediate and visceral, and something that is most powerfully effected by our approximation to the sea.
After our first trip here in September, we started returning in May – and for about a decade every single Memorial Day weekend ended up being cold and gray and rainy – and still we fell in love with Ogunquit. So on our first afternoon here this year, a little spell of rain didn’t dampen our spirits, even as we had to rush back to our bed and breakfast to stay dry.
It was a quick spell, and would be the only bout of bad weather until our day of departure, so our meteorological fortune had finally turned. The clouds moved off for the remainder of the weekend, and after dinner at the Crooked Pine, we made another walk to the shore.
It’s a view that never gets old, and that we never take for granted. Another spring seaside retreat had begun, and the lilacs lent their magic to the festivities…
