Nature Connection: Saltwater Heals Everything

This past week has been full of bad news, and I’ve found myself working in the garden when it’s too hot, ripping out weeds like they were, well, representing other things. It’s quite satisfying but not as good a stress releaser as walking on the beach, in my humble opinion.

Because I was one of those kids from the ‘60s and ‘70s that grew up here and practically lived on the beach all summer long, I can no longer hang out in the sun all day. This makes me sad because no one loved just hanging out on a sunny beach on a perfect summer day more than me.

This also means I do my beach walking and most of my gardening in the cooler times of day. Yes, I’m that kooky neighborhood lady feeding the orioles and weeding the tomato garden at dawn in my nightgown. If anyone was actually paying attention they would also hear me talking to the rabbits and birds that hang out nearby watching me work.

I’ve written many times how walking is my way of getting out of my head, solving problems and generally just enjoying my surroundings, whether I’m in the woods, at the beach or even in a city. I’ve been a walker all my life and have found more peace walking than perhaps doing anything else. At this point in my life there are some beaches which should have ruts with my name on them, I’ve walked the same routes so often.

Over a period of days I walked several different beaches, all very familiar to me, but also quite different. One was on the south side facing Nantucket Sound and the others were on the north side, looking out over Cape Cod Bay. One day was windy and cool but the others promised to heat up as the day progressed. While I was there, however, the temperature was about as perfect as it could be. The sky was blue, the water calm and the sand soft beneath my feet.

One of my favorite beaches is on a spit of sand so long that it has a marine forest, multiple dunes and backs up to an outrageously beautiful salt marsh. It goes on and on and on, and as a walker I can imagine myself as a wanderer and explorer of a different time. Once I get past the areas where the swimmers and sunbathers gather I am often alone, even in summer. When I go early, as I have been doing over the last few weeks, I am often in step with other walkers, people like me, alone or in pairs, out to enjoy the summer morning before it gets too hot. We smile and nod as we pass each other, mindful of the time and the assumption we are all there for the peace and quiet, not a social gathering. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good social gathering at the beach, but early mornings are for reflection and rejuvenation, at least in my now shabby, dog-eared rule book.

There’s something about a beach walk that is especially healing for me and for many others I know. My mother always said that saltwater healed everything, and I think she was right. When we were little and cut our feet on a sharp shell underwater, she would check us out to be sure it wasn’t a cut in need of serious attention and then send us to sit in the water, foot off the sand so the water could caress it. This was a fun activity, so we never argued, and as we got older we found that saltwater was great for cuts, bruises, aches and even hurt feelings. There was nothing like a good swim to help us find our equilibrium again, even in the worst of our teenaged angst years.

As I stood on the sand at the edge of the sea looking out over a horizon that seemed infinite, I took a deep breath, savoring the sharpness of the salty air. I stepped into the water, wincing a bit as the coldness hit my warm little toes. Very quickly my feet acclimated and I could feel my whole body relaxing as the calm water of an outgoing tide washed in and out over my feet and ankles. The sand beneath my feet pulled and slipped, reminding me of all the days my parents warned us about the undertow, or “undertoad” as many of us understood it. There was something a little more alarming thinking about a giant toad under our feet than just the movement of sand, something a little thrilling, even.

As I watched gulls floating on the sea and listened to terns as they chattered before diving into what appeared to be a nice school of tiny fish, I felt tension leave my body. My breathing began to match the rhythm of the waves and my eyes softened as the color of the sea calmed me. The sounds of the birds and the waves were natural music, soothing and lovely. I murmured to myself, “Saltwater heals everything,” and watched a small fluffy cloud spread out against a cerulean blue sky. I picked up a small, smooth stone, and skipped it over the water, smiled, and headed back across the sand feeling much better than I had when I arrived.