There's something magical about snow at the beach. Dunes are
the only hills to be found for miles and boogie boards are used as makeshift sleds. Tow
ropes and knee boards are retrieved from our winterized boats and we pull them
behind trucks. The streets take the place of the waterways, and in the midst of
all this winter we find comfort in a familiar feeling. We pour salt on our
walkways and the taste transports us back to the sea. The sting of rosy,
windburned cheeks in January is reminiscent of July's sunburned skin. Neighbors
gather around the fire instead of the grill, and our children build snowmen
with buckets and shovels that are still a little sandy from their last trip to
the beach. More than anything, the sense of community that we all thought went
into hibernation comes out to play, if only for a few fleeting hours. The
sun sets, albeit much earlier than the days of summer, we say goodbye and
retreat back into our cozy homes with a sense of satisfaction that we haven’t
felt since late September. In all the snow and ice, we find within our tiny
town a private island, the spirit of summer, and the promise of warmer days
just beyond the horizon…
