This is not my house, but I spent a good portion of my life living on a very deserted peninsula that jutted into the Atlantic Ocean. When I saw this, it brought back many old memories. I had to use the mega zoom lens to capture it, so it might not be as clear as it could be.
When you live on a peninsula and boats go by, you wave. Usually the people on the boats wave back, if they notice you. Your neighbors are really only passing boats and crafts, and it’s interesting to think of what they might be doing on the boat. The ocean has the peculiar quality of wafting sound to you that you could not ordinarily hear. It carries voices and sometimes full conversations for impressive distances. I always wondered if the boaters wondered about me, the crazy lady waving from the dock.
|Out on the peninsula.|
I guess the thing you think about the most is the weather, especially the wind. Astronomical tides accompanied by a storm can be terrifying but exhilarating. Every morning very early, you do a sky check and try to decide what you might be able to accomplish that day. There’s always more work to do than you could ever possibly hope to get done.
Living on a peninsula can be lonely. In the winter, you can spend many days without seeing a soul or talking to anyone. I’m okay by myself because I’ve had to learn how to be so, even though now I don’t have to do it to quite such an extreme. There are a lot of people who say that they would like nothing more than to just get away from everyone and everything and live alone on an island. Be careful what you wish for as it may be given to you.
Still, it’s an eye-opening experience because there’s no running from yourself out on an island. There are no distractions and there’s nowhere to go, really. There’s a difference between life and living, and out on an island in the Atlantic, you learn that difference whether you want to or not.