I Think I'll Like It Here
My first thought was, "This isn't Westport." Former associations with that most beautiful island town in Cape Cod forced a comparison between it and The Red House, Chincoteague, which came out decidedly in favor of the former.
But that was only at first.
The Red House is home this week to ten PHC girls on Spring Break, who all hope to be productive while enjoying the aesthetic qualities of Chincoteague Island. For this week we have outlawed dress clothes, social engagements, and men. We are to be a sort of merry home-keeping convent.
The house is charming, though I was too tired to notice it at first. Kaylyn and I have a room equipped with en suite bathroom, sitting area, and a funny little staircase to the kitchen. The Red House reminds me very much of the hundred-year-old farmhouse of my childhood. It is not precisely beside the sea, but the sea is just across the road, next to a cafe and screened from us by some sort of Comfort Inn.
Behind the house there is a yard (long, narrow, and surrounded by other houses' yards) that terminates in a graveyard. Reader, I did not fall in love with this place until I strayed into the graveyard at sunset. The first thing that caught my eye there was a large, beautiful white conch shell, lying like a sea-bouquet in front of its headstone. There were more of these scattered about. "How like sea-folk!" I thought. Then, looking up, I caught a glimpse of rose-red light falling across the bay. The magic of the sea crept all at once into my blood, and I stood utterly enchanted.
I think I'll like it here.
But that was only at first.
The Red House is home this week to ten PHC girls on Spring Break, who all hope to be productive while enjoying the aesthetic qualities of Chincoteague Island. For this week we have outlawed dress clothes, social engagements, and men. We are to be a sort of merry home-keeping convent.
The house is charming, though I was too tired to notice it at first. Kaylyn and I have a room equipped with en suite bathroom, sitting area, and a funny little staircase to the kitchen. The Red House reminds me very much of the hundred-year-old farmhouse of my childhood. It is not precisely beside the sea, but the sea is just across the road, next to a cafe and screened from us by some sort of Comfort Inn.
Behind the house there is a yard (long, narrow, and surrounded by other houses' yards) that terminates in a graveyard. Reader, I did not fall in love with this place until I strayed into the graveyard at sunset. The first thing that caught my eye there was a large, beautiful white conch shell, lying like a sea-bouquet in front of its headstone. There were more of these scattered about. "How like sea-folk!" I thought. Then, looking up, I caught a glimpse of rose-red light falling across the bay. The magic of the sea crept all at once into my blood, and I stood utterly enchanted.
I think I'll like it here.
posted by Praelucor at 6:20 PM
4 Comments:
You are so morbid ;). You didn't fall in love with the place until you discovered the graveyard?! I never knew there was a graveyard ... I think I fell in love with the kitchen and the old house and the beach and the forests ...
And, with being able to spend the week with people like you :).
praying for you.
There is something very special about the Red House on Chincoteague.
I have never been there at Chincoteague, but I fell in love with the ocean the first time I saw it. Your post brings back the swift heartbeat and the excitement at being near a salty mystery.
I think I should like to live by the ocean.
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