Salisbury Beach

Saturday after the Seacoast Modern Quilt Guild meeting, Selim and I headed up Route 1A to the Salisbury State Beach.  I'm not sure if I have ever been there before.  I might have been there after Hurricane Bob in 1991 to look at the coastal damage.  I can't remember.  Anyway, after sitting in the library meeting room for two hours, I was ready to stretch my legs.

We lucked out in that the wind wasn't too bad.  At first, Selim wasn't too thrilled to be there.  He stayed near the car while I walked down to the surf.  After seeing me climb on the rocks of the jetty, he decided to come down as well.  He found some sticks to play with and that was all it took to turn his mood around.

Finding sticks

Being goofy with sticks and daring me to take the picture.

He wasn't interested in taking pictures with me, but I am tenacious and got a few anyway.

On our way back to the car, we walked a top of the beach wall.  Selim noticed the sand patterns.

Crouching down for a better view.

We weren't sure if they were wind blown or high tide deposited.  But we did learn that they weren't made up of all sand.  It was just a fine layer upon a pile of snow.

Deeper and snowier than expected.

That broke the proverbial ice -- his feet and legs were covered in snow up to his thigh and now the real play began.  The wall had contained the blowing snow and made big drift piles as high as six and as low as two feet high, or so.  I had reservations about him jumping from the wall into the snow because I didn't know if there were rocks down below or if it was just sand.  As we aired our disagreement over the safety of jumping, a family with two really small kids arrived.  As soon as they got to the top of the wall, their dad yelled, "JUMP" and the did.  Selim looked at me; I shrugged my shoulders and gave him the nod.

He jumped and jumped and jumped and jumped.

Getting back up to the wall.

Making a seat.

"Mom!  Look!"

He rolled in the snow, got stuck up to his waist, and loved every minute.

My feet are dry, his are not.

I sat on a bench and watched him and the sea gulls, and tried to decipher the language of the group next to me.

Well, hello there.

When his feet were numb and he pants soaked, he cuddled with me on the bench.  A man walked by with his dog on a very long leash.  The man walked slowly and carefully.  Every now and then the dog would bark and look back, telling his man to speed up.  The group of four continued their lively discussion. As we sat on the bench, I tried to figure out what language they spoke.  It wasn't French, Spanish, or Turkish.  It wasn't guttural enough to be German.  Their words had soft sounds -- Portuguese?  When we walked past them on our way out, I asked. "Polish!  Polish power! We are speaking Polish!"  So cute.

I can see why people go to that beach in the summer.  We might have to do that once it warms up just a bit.