As I continue to work through my Summer Top 10 list, yesterday I crossed off number five, “a day at the beach”
I love the beach and being from South Western Ontario in a community perfectly nestled within easy driving distance of three Great Lakes, there are several beautiful beaches to choose from. When I was growing up in little Woodstock, Ontario most of my classmates went with their families to Sauble Beach, a lovely spot on Lake Huron that was a short, easy drive away and the beach of choice for most of Woodstock it seemed. I, however, never went for a few reasons… First, I was never part of the “in” crowd who went and knew that showing up would result in more torment than it was worth… Second, I was quite happy frolicking on the shores of the little lake that was tucked within the city of Woodstock, Pittock Lake (being very generous calling it a lake really… after all, it was created by damming the Thames River for crying out loud). I am, at heart, a simple gal.
Couple that with my family’s annual trips to Florida over Christmas break as well as regular visits to my aunt and uncle who lived on the shores of Wasaga Beach, Ontario and you have a love of the beach and all the glory that lives there that has been cultivated and expanded upon over the course of my lifetime.
So as I said, yesterday off I went to my current beach of choice, Port Dover. Again, a beach community located very close to my own town but this time a lakeside village on the shores of Lake Erie. It is not a large beach but it is a pretty one and with the ease of the drive and a door-to-beach commute of less than 40 minutes, I’m a happy gal indeed.
Sunday morning I packed my necessary beach gear (most of which spends the summer in the beach bag ready for a spur-of-the-moment jaunt)… book, iPod (to be used only in the case of an overpowering influx of unwelcome music from beach blanket neighbours), blanket, scarf to tie my hair back, wallet and sunscreen all easily tucked into the big straw bag that I purchased on my most exotic of beach trips, Nice, France. I did pack sunscreen. I did. But I did not use it. More on that later.
One of the things I love most about the beach is the symphonic layering of sounds… You have the constant lapping of the waves on the shore, conversations coming in and out of focus, children laughing and sometimes crying, dogs barking, music playing (happily on this occasion I was not bothered by a battle of the boom-boxes… do they still call them boom-boxes? Not likely), gulls calling all combining to the most perfect of white noises.
Although the beach was predictably busy for a perfect summer day, not too hot and not humid at all, I easily found myself a spot to set up camp. And there I stayed for the whole afternoon… I swam a few times, read for a while, walked for a while, laid out for a while… I was oblivious of time passing other than the unavoidable tracking of the sun across the sky. I felt nothing other than the joy of what seemed the most perfect of Sunday afternoons. Until I got in my car to drive home. There it was… that uncomfortable tightening of my skin on the backs of my legs all the way up, pausing then there again covering my back. Burn? Was I burnt?
It has always been predictable how I “tan” each year. One burn to start off the season then I’m good to go. Now, I am sure there are people out there screaming at their computer screens about the dangers of unprotected exposure to the sun, long-term effects of sun damage… I know I know. I’m a mom… I know. I spent countless hours fighting to slather sunscreen on my boys when they went out to play or at the beach. I know. I know better.
And I know the pain of sunburn… I’m the gal with freckles on her shoulders from a second degree burn that I received while coaching girls baseball with my girlfriend Ruthann when I was in grade twelve (I add that detail specifically because my friends will read it and either fall off their chairs laughing or out and out call me a liar… but I swear it’s true).
So I do know the dangers of sunburn and yet there I was last night, trying my hardest to find a comfortable position to lay where my back and rear end were not screaming in discomfort. And don’t get me started on sitting on the leather seats of my car or at my desk at work. I am paying the price. And I swear I won’t do it again… Until next year.
But what a day I had!!
I love the beach and being from South Western Ontario in a community perfectly nestled within easy driving distance of three Great Lakes, there are several beautiful beaches to choose from. When I was growing up in little Woodstock, Ontario most of my classmates went with their families to Sauble Beach, a lovely spot on Lake Huron that was a short, easy drive away and the beach of choice for most of Woodstock it seemed. I, however, never went for a few reasons… First, I was never part of the “in” crowd who went and knew that showing up would result in more torment than it was worth… Second, I was quite happy frolicking on the shores of the little lake that was tucked within the city of Woodstock, Pittock Lake (being very generous calling it a lake really… after all, it was created by damming the Thames River for crying out loud). I am, at heart, a simple gal.
Couple that with my family’s annual trips to Florida over Christmas break as well as regular visits to my aunt and uncle who lived on the shores of Wasaga Beach, Ontario and you have a love of the beach and all the glory that lives there that has been cultivated and expanded upon over the course of my lifetime.
So as I said, yesterday off I went to my current beach of choice, Port Dover. Again, a beach community located very close to my own town but this time a lakeside village on the shores of Lake Erie. It is not a large beach but it is a pretty one and with the ease of the drive and a door-to-beach commute of less than 40 minutes, I’m a happy gal indeed.
Sunday morning I packed my necessary beach gear (most of which spends the summer in the beach bag ready for a spur-of-the-moment jaunt)… book, iPod (to be used only in the case of an overpowering influx of unwelcome music from beach blanket neighbours), blanket, scarf to tie my hair back, wallet and sunscreen all easily tucked into the big straw bag that I purchased on my most exotic of beach trips, Nice, France. I did pack sunscreen. I did. But I did not use it. More on that later.
One of the things I love most about the beach is the symphonic layering of sounds… You have the constant lapping of the waves on the shore, conversations coming in and out of focus, children laughing and sometimes crying, dogs barking, music playing (happily on this occasion I was not bothered by a battle of the boom-boxes… do they still call them boom-boxes? Not likely), gulls calling all combining to the most perfect of white noises.
Although the beach was predictably busy for a perfect summer day, not too hot and not humid at all, I easily found myself a spot to set up camp. And there I stayed for the whole afternoon… I swam a few times, read for a while, walked for a while, laid out for a while… I was oblivious of time passing other than the unavoidable tracking of the sun across the sky. I felt nothing other than the joy of what seemed the most perfect of Sunday afternoons. Until I got in my car to drive home. There it was… that uncomfortable tightening of my skin on the backs of my legs all the way up, pausing then there again covering my back. Burn? Was I burnt?
It has always been predictable how I “tan” each year. One burn to start off the season then I’m good to go. Now, I am sure there are people out there screaming at their computer screens about the dangers of unprotected exposure to the sun, long-term effects of sun damage… I know I know. I’m a mom… I know. I spent countless hours fighting to slather sunscreen on my boys when they went out to play or at the beach. I know. I know better.
And I know the pain of sunburn… I’m the gal with freckles on her shoulders from a second degree burn that I received while coaching girls baseball with my girlfriend Ruthann when I was in grade twelve (I add that detail specifically because my friends will read it and either fall off their chairs laughing or out and out call me a liar… but I swear it’s true).
So I do know the dangers of sunburn and yet there I was last night, trying my hardest to find a comfortable position to lay where my back and rear end were not screaming in discomfort. And don’t get me started on sitting on the leather seats of my car or at my desk at work. I am paying the price. And I swear I won’t do it again… Until next year.
But what a day I had!!
