Remembering a Foggy Morning

I took this photo on Briggs Beach in Little Compton, Rhode Island a few weeks ago while Peter and I were on vacation. We had rented a wonderful little place, only a half-mile from the beach, for 14 days.  In order to get to the ocean one could walk, ride a bike, or drive on a gravel road through woods. The walk was delightful, with cotton-tailed bunny rabbits scampering by from time to time, and beautiful birds of varying kinds dancing from one branch to another, filling the air with song.

This particular morning was just a day or two before our vacation would come to an end. I had awakened early, longing to be on the beach, and was quite surprised to see how foggy it was when I arrived.  At first sight it reminded me of one of my favorite novels, The Mists of Avalon  by Marion Zimmer Bradley, which I’d read back in the ’80’s. But as I approached the shoreline and continued walking  a mile or so, words of Carol Shields’ in The Stone Diaries, kept coming to me: “For perhaps we are like stones, our own history and the history of the world embedded in us, we hold a sorrow deep within and cannot weep until that history is sung.” I remember how deeply those words resonated for me while I was writing my memoir, and how grateful I was to have found them.  If you want to know more about her and her books, check out this website:  http://www.carol-shields.comphoto(215)

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