Indian Summer

One of Grandma Sue's friends offered us the use of their beach this week. We've had spectacular weather for October, cool nights followed by deliciously warm days. We lucked out again today with weather was in the low 70s, so Grandma Sue and I took advantage of the offer to bring the kids to the beach for a picnic.





The beach is Simply Gorgeous. Clean, small and lined by rocks and train tracks. An excellent diversion for a four year old.


We saw the "acela" approximately four times. There is something very suspicious about the frequency. Not to mention that the speed wasn't what you'd imagine for a train that only stops at major train hubs.

One edge of the cove is lined with pretty little summer cottages that made me regret my misspent youth. I don't even like the beach.

As my father would say, I could get used to it.

The kids had an absolute blast. Noodle played chicken with the waves, giggling hysterically when she got caught.



Q buried his cherry picker in the sand. Sue and I spent about 20 minutes looking for it as we herded the kids back and forth on the beach. Quinn asked us where it was and we replied, "We think you buried it, but we don't know where." He chirps, "Here it is," and pulls it out of the sand right by the lawn chairs.



There were scavenging seagulls, of course. I'd forgotten how ambitious they get. One attempted to drag away Q's metal lunch box, filled with trucks. Q was thrilled to be directed to chase the gulls- laughing as he scampered after the unintimidated birds.

At 3:30 we got on the road, a shell shocked vision of sticky, exhaustion strapped in the back seat.