T he sweet seagull seen in this image is possibly feeling the effects of withdrawal (I say "possibly" because I do not want to presume to know her feelings or thoughts) on a quiet Tuesday (day after Labor Day Tuesday), morning on Robert Moses State Park Beach, as she looks out into the Atlantic and wonders where another summer has gone. A summer she not only shared with her seagull comrades and sandpipers, but a summer where she has shared "her" turf, a sandy beach, with hoards of local folks who live close by as well as folks, such as yours truly, who managed to escape the concrete jungle of New York City for a chance to replace the roar of sirens with a roar of the Atlantic's mighty waves!
She seems mournful for the sounds of children building co-ops and condominiums made of sand, for even the "machinery" that they used to build them, which can be seen below,
is gone for the summer season, and it is only September the Fourth! "Summer does not really end for eighteen days," I imagine the seagull to be thinking, and I wonder if she is thinking "why did the beach 'officially' close at 6:30 PM yesterday? Even if school does begin for the children who spent their summer building co-ops and condominiums made of sand, there will be plenty of warm (even hot) temperature dominated days, so why the hurry to end it all so soon?"
The sweet seagull certainly seems to be a deep thinker as she stares out into the waves whist dipping her foot into the still warm waters as you can see in the image below:
A h, but I am probably projecting as I tend to be a deep thinker, "cursed" with a mind where the wheels are always turning, imagining others to be deep in thought when in fact, they may have nothing more on their minds than what's for lunch!
For those of you who have read Light in August, by William Faulkner, you might recall a passage where the townspeople are murmuring about a young girl who has come to their town. They are speculating that her visit is to find the father of her child and they are (as I am with my unnamed seagull) wondering what she is thinking. As it happens, Faulkner's character is only thinking if she wants a ham and cheese sandwich on white or rye bread!
And, so perhaps the thoughts of "my" seagull may have nothing to do with the empty beach and musings on the "unofficial" end of summer; but in fact, she may be preoccupied with catching crabs (that wash up on shore) to eat for lunch (her "version" of a ham and cheese sandwich) on this Tuesday after Labor Day, in other words, she may be only interested in the task (lunch) at hand; and, speaking of Tuesdays and tasks at hand, I've not for gotten that, in TLLG's venues on Tuesdays, it must be tumblr, so without further ado here is the link to take you there.
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