By edanThe morning had held such promise as we set out to Healer’s Cider Farm, a place that had once charmed me with its simplicity and warmth. Now, though, it seemed a shadow of its former self, the animals confined in tight spaces, the vibrant life there somewhat commercialized. I sighed, my heart a tad heavy, yet I tried to shake off the sense of loss by indulging in a little delicious comfort—those warm, buttery scones with jam and clotted cream, and a full-bodied hot dog to boot.
Leaving the farm behind, we headed toward Hayle Estuary. The tide was low, showing off stretches of sand gleaming under the summer sun. Laura, always eager for an adventure, was thrilled to test her new 'Pride' paddle board, its bright colors standing out against the pastel sky. Meanwhile, Poppy, our enthusiastic, sand-covered companion, joyfully dashed about until she grew tired and sought refuge behind my chair.
By late afternoon, the tide had turned on us, forcing us to move our chairs and tent multiple times. I hoped to ride the afternoon breeze with my wing, but alas, the wind was more a whisper than a shout. Instead, I found myself floating down the current, exchanging lazy banter with a woman who seemed both familiar and mysterious, alluring in a Sharon Stone sort of way.
As evening came, our plans to camp under the starlit sky faded with the sun. Lacking preparation and chilled by the night air, we packed up our sandy belongings. The promise of Gilbert’s beach bar awaited us, offering the warmth of seafood chowder and prawn tacos—a fitting end to an imperfect yet beautifully memorable day by the sea.
So it was that summer of 2024, with its ups and downs marking our shared journey.