Breakfast is in the oven and I am retreating to the local Starbucks for some caffeine. I’ve been awake since 5 am, when a constant droning sound awakened me. I finally got up and walked around the house, hovering outside each of the rooms to locate the noise.
It’s an interesting house. Each of the 14 small bedrooms has a twin bed, a nightstand, sink, and crucifix. It’s the nuns’ retreat house and it is perfect for our family gatherings.
After determining that the noise is not coming from any of the rooms, I open the back door to the balcony. The noise is coming from the out on the ocean – the foghorn. I groan and return to my little twin bed. The horn continues to drone and I can’t convince myself to let it lull me back to sleep. So I pick up my iPod and resume the book on tape.
My quiet retreat from the noise lasts until 6 am hits when the young New Yorkers are up and cheerfully, and loudly, letting their wake up known. They hover outside of YaYa’s door, hoping he will hear them.
I get up to let the day begin.
A foghorn? I don’t even know what that sounds like.
I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving, Juls!!
I hope your day was great! We’re trying to wind down from the drive home…apple pie is coursing through my system…
we lived on the coast of maine before moving to the landlocked state of kentucky. i adore that sound of the foghorn – so comforting. i could almost hear it while reading your post … hope you had a nice thanksgiving.
This place sounds fantastic. I love being on the water – any time. Cold, foggy, sunny, windy – I don’t care. I’m glad you had a great Thanksgiving.