Fleeing the Madness

Well, this is the Thursday before it all begins. The hoards are at the gate and will be parking on the azaleas by this time tomorrow. Good thing I don’t have any azaleas! Stupid hoards!

Memorial day weekend is upon us and what that means on the coast of Maine is that all the summer folk will be here to open the shutters of their vacation homes, sweep out a winter’s worth of dust and spend the evenings shivering on their porches, pretending that the warm weather is here. It’s not, but hey… “A” for effort!

We live in a fairly picturesque little place. We’re near a good sized city but still have the rural feel of old time, small neighborhoods. The road in front of my house is dirt, but in twenty minutes, and with out a car, you are in the middle of a kitsch filled shopping Mecca. Where else are you going to be able to buy your lobster hat? “No where”, if you’re fortunate.

This time of the year is always a bitter sweet affair for us. On the one hand, seeing the closed houses open up again and the lawns fill with badminton nets and squealing kids is pretty great. The entire place comes alive and is used to its fullest. On the other hand, this is our home. We live here not only in the fun, warm, green season, but through the dark, snowy, freezing winter as well. We get used to having the run of the place. Short cuts made running through empty yards is lost once the families return from their southern habitations. We know the place better then them! It’s ours! Or… not.

The harsh reality is that the summer folks probably know my area better than I do. They come for the summer and spend their days climbing over every last rock, searching every bit of beach and relaxing on various porches enjoying the long summer nights. We work. Though I’m here all the time, I rarely get to take in the pleasures of my surroundings. That’s not a complaint! It’s just life. When I have a good weekend, I work on my house. When we have vacation time, we go away… Like this weekend, for instance.

By this time on Saturday, the little market where we buy our necessities will be awash in lost looking visitors “from away” trying to find the gin and shampoo. If you can hear over the shouts of “Honey? Did you find the toilet paper? What? They only have THAT kind?!”, you might be able to catch the sound of an audible eye roll from those of us who call this place home.

But hey, let’s not get to high and might here. It’s a beautiful place, where we live. It would be stingy to try and keep it all to our selves and to be honest, it’s kind of fun to watch so much life get injected into our otherwise sleepy little corner of the coast. I’d be lying if I said that we didn’t like the money they bring, either. SO, I’ll keep a smile on, help folks with directions and explain many, many, MANY times how to get around here. Well… I figure I can hold the smile until at least until the end of August. Then all bets are off.

But… in the mean time, I’m locking the door, stuffing the family into the Subaru wagon and we are skipping out on the start of the madness that will descend. Hopefully we’ll be long gone before the masses show up and start double-parking their gigantor-mobiles on the main drag and and complaining about the smell of the seaweed rotting on the beaches (“Ew! Don’t they clean that up?”). We’ll go and visit my folks in New Hampshire and let Short Stack go run around in the same yard that I pounded down, all those years ago. I think it will be a fun time.

I sure hope the store there carries the type of toilet paper I like. I hate that other stuff.

“Honey? did you pack the rum? WHAT?! Well I hope they have it here.”

Advertisements
%d bloggers like this: