Coquina and Christine had been away, off in the hills of Vermont, for almost a week. They had returned to the Vineyard. It was afternoon. The south wind was picking up. That south wind carries the sound of the surf right to our house. We heard it, and were tempted. A daughter learned of our possible plans and asked to come. With her dog. So we headed south, to the sound of the sea.
To where at barrier beach, salt pond and ocean meet.
Through the dunes, and on the shore, daughter and dogs trot to ocean’s roar…
Sky. Birds. Waves. Sand. Wind. People. Dogs.
People strolled and talked.
Dogs stopped and started, ran and trotted,
Coquina is Umi’s junior, always zippy, always asking to play, while Umi is the reluctant and trying-to-be-dignified elder “Aunt”. It has always been so, from their first meeting, two years ago, when Coquina was a rat-tailed, rambunctious puppy.
Seaweed is to sniff.
Coquina tried to find what Umi was sniffing.
We reached our turn-around spot, and turned to return as the sun made a brief appearance.
The earth and clouds turned further away from the sun.
The dogs led, but paused on the path to wait for us.
Then it was over the bridge…
…and twelve legs headed home.