Secret Season

I drove to the beach today… slowing to see the cotton fields that stretch across the countryside. I would pass great swaths of farm land in different stages of harvest. The fertile, dark earth in some fields held on to brown stubbles of cotton stems that had given in to the harvest. Around every other country mile, the full, white plants of cotton filled the horizon.

The season was here… the in-between season… the secret season. The cold air was held back by weeks. There was still delicate moisture in the air. The clouds hung low. The air and the landscape looked like winter… it looked cold, but the air was comforting as it filled my lungs. Autumn’s color fought through the constant green of the pines… the winter season was nearing.

I could sense the beach… the air was different. In the summer, the traffic slows and the excitement builds inside as you approach. The last miles are full of sights that fill the mind… the colors of summer reflect off of the sand and off of the neon. But summer has ended… the traffic is gone… the people have made their way home. The sun perches low in the clouded sky and the neon is now a lonely reminder.

I drove down the quiet streets and parked near the boardwalk. It felt odd to be able to choose any spot in the sandy lot. There was no chatter of music in the air… no cars and no aroma of carnival food. The winds of the beach tossed sand underfoot to soften the edges of the concrete.

The beach was clear… no umbrellas… no running children or colorful floats. A solitary kite struggled against the wind in the distance… a dozen gulls huddled together near the dunes and glanced my way as I moved near. The sea knows… the cooling sands know. The secret season is here. There was a quiet comfort… the winds blew the memories of the past through my mind as I stood on the edge of the world.

                                                          Shannon R Killman