From the writers at the Hartford Courant.
It was no beach day, but we were determined to make it one. Rain misted down and clouds hung heavily above us as my husband and I plopped into our orange kayaks, the only bright colors in a landscape of muted grays and greens.
A great blue heron seemed surprised to see us when we cruised into the marsh, flapping away in a whoosh of slate-blue wings. Our paddles sliced rhythmically through the water, past meadows of tawny grass and thick stands of loblolly pines. An hour or so later, a sliver of sand materialized from the fog. We’d made it.
Each summer at Ocean City, Md., our family vacation began with staking out a square of sand amid a sea of umbrellas and glistening bodies.
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