barnegat, part two.

{we were treated to a full moon. lucky us}.

If I were a boy and if I lived by the sea I would crew a boat.  I am romanticizing and idealizing and fantasizing, but oh how wonderful it would be to learn how to dock a boat, tie a real fishermen's knot, prepare for a midnight voyage, slog around in rubber boots, and smell in that smell. I could hang out the marina for hours, finding something different (or the same) each time to pique my interest. I think the guys that were working on the docks thought I was a real weirdo because I kind of just lingered and photographed and sighed and had all of that sea-lust in my eyes.

Now. Onto some glories of the seashore. One is the hydrangeas that simply, with beyond any doubt, thrive. There must be the perfect amount of sand in the earth and salt in the air. These bountiful plumes of pink and blue flourish and provide the most picturesque adornment to any cedar house. Two: cedar. If I had a beach house, it would be sided with weathered cedar, with a bright front door, with a big white deck and big hydrangea bushes decorating the yard. Three is the linens and flax-colored fabrics that I would so wear, the clothes that are sold in charming little beach boutiques, that make so much sense at the time to wear, but only really work in that context. Four is the fog. Five is that never ending hour between four and seven, where the only thing you really need to do is take a shower, but the time luxuriously drags on and on. You may think, what's for dinner? Hmm, what should I do later? The rest of the day flies, but those comfortable hours inside when you've hosed off the salt and tan, are the slowest, thankfully.

see you in september. ciao, xo

barnegat, part one.

{we named him frasier}.

{every morning the inlet would be blanketed with fog}.

{crab corpses littered our roof. poor guys}.

{great minds think alike}.

{used in the filming of this movie}.

My life, my health, and my entire sense of inner contentment would be enhanced if I lived in walking distance to a cafe. This, my friends, I am convinced.

A charming, perfect, cedar-sided cafe now resides a mere stone throw's away from the marina of my childhood memories. It is small, with a occupancy limit of 17, but even I question that 17 would fit. A little loft apartment where the world's luckiest person lives sits on atop, undoubtedly with the best views of the sunset on the bay. What combination could be better...the taste of freshly brewed coffee, with a hint of sea salt and fish grime in the air? (ps. I have a weird love for the fishy smells at the marina).

The cafe was actually a long walk away. I would say 30 minutes one way. But oh, it was worth it. I jogged it once but by the time I was there I was so hot that I had to settle for an iced coffee (2nd choice to my usual hot coffee, which I took during the week - the only week of the year - with sugar in the raw). It would be even more picturesque with a bike. Put me on top of a little mint beach cruiser, like the perfect one above, it would take 15 minutes, tops. Oh, and how my life would be so, so good.

Living near the marina, the lighthouse, and the inlet was pretty awesome. I could go and stand on that jetty for days and never be bored. How could one be bored? Sailboats, seagulls, crabs, sea urchins, bugs, fishermen, speedboats, fishing charters, storms, fog, rain, sunsets and sunrises and the fish would all keep me truly entertained. Just watching. Each little crevice of the jetty has its own story. On our first night, we met a crane named Frasier by the rocks. He was just chilling, gingerly stepping from rock to rock, searching for food or just posing for us.

Other days, pretty much every day, we were treated to front row seats to the crab gallows. Watching a crab get slaughtered is a solemn, yet gladiatorial, affair. Instead of the colosseum we were on the flat, sunbleached rooftop deck. Seagulls would glide on over and land with a  feisty, gutsy little blue-claw in-beak. Then, it would poke the life out of it - literally. It was awful and fascinating. Crab legs littered our roof. The boys played hockey with them, ugh.

Before the vacation, I looked forward to wine on the deck in the evenings, watching the sun sink below the bay. But I have to admit that my favorite parts were, without second thought, in the mornings. When the fog would blanket the inlet heavily, so that only the masts of the fishing charters glided in the dim shadows of the morning. When we would walk (or run) to the cafe. When I would wake up at 7am, fearing to death that it was actually 10am, then, in a relieved excitement, go about my morning routine.

more tomorrow! ciao, xo.

solleone

romper LOFT | cardigan converse {on sale!}  | hat sienese flea market | crossbody bag coach (old) | sunnies ray ban

I learned a new Italian word through a book I read over the last week - solleone. It means 'lion sun,' the fiercest, hottest, most ferocious sun that there is.  Italian words like this make me swoon.  That word comes to mind when I see the soft, golden light in these photos - the evening leftovers of an intensely sunny day.

Anyone who worships the sun during the summer knows that the initial days of sunbathing can be the toughest on skin. I dabbed on this spf (highly, highly, highly recommend) and luckily didn't suffer any sunburn casualties this year! I was able to dress in light layers, the perfect amount of fabric on a freshly tanned and sea-salted body. My style changes so dramatically with the summer,  compared to other seasons - I go all bohemian and refuse to wear anything with pant legs (EXCEPT this romper!). As for accessories, the Siena hat comes out, closed-toes shoes are banished, and mismatched beads and golds and silvers  are united. I simplify. Life is good.

Anyway, playing with the golden light of the pre-twilight hours is always a fun time. The light casts an ethereal glow on anything that moves - a twinkle, a sparkle, a glisten of golden. Any other time of year, to me, this sun is harsh. The summer diffuses it somehow and makes it just right. Can't wait to see you again, solleone.

ciao, xo

a quick view at our vacation

Few things on earth beat the feeling of a cool outdoor shower. Getting doused in water, with the addition of a stray sea breeze, feeling the heat from the day pour off you, brings me a sense of calm and sheer contentment. There's a certain thrill knowing that the rickety wooden door has a really rusty, weathered hinge - and that is all that separates you from the outdoors and who-knows-what in the scrubby pines by the jetty. I wasn't even skeeved by the little snail watching me from a nearby puddle.

That, vanilla soft-serve ice cream, family polaroids, 8:30pm night cruises, this book, the Inlet deli, the  marina, the ability to get a deep tan without ever leaving the house, wine on the roof at sundown, boutiquing (spellcheck says that isn't a word), and late night thunderstorms all made the past week utterly perfect. I had to consciously try to shed off my stresses, one by one, but it happened. I did it! And now, I am thriving in summer.

check back for more thorough photo entries/posts on the trip. :) will be posting more daily. ciao! xo