Ocean and Bison Dreams

One of my friends is at her vacation home on Cape Cod this week, and I admit to some envy. Closing my eyes, I envision the salty sea’s scent; the rolling tide; seagulls riding the wind, crying out; sand under and around my bare feet.

I am a man of the mountains, of pastoral settings, verdant valleys, woodlands where the trees share their secrets, and crystal streams sing their songs. Yet, I do love the sea for all her charms and mysteries.

Three years ago, when I took my first road trip at fifty-six years of age, it was only Samwise with me. I had Bill, the VW Beetle convertible. We drove down the east coast to Savannah, cut across the south until we hit the Gulf Coast, and spent time in the desert and the Sierra Nevada. So many memories. One day stands out above the others, though. Before dawn, we visited Sequoia National Park. I was stunned, inspired, and left in awe. It’s strange to say I underestimated giants, but I had. When we departed, we drove with the top down, descending fro…