A light and refreshing breeze

At Third Beach in Middletown, a light and refreshing breeze comforted Karen and me on what was a roasting and humid evening.

The waves were relatively calm and quiet in the cove. Sunset was in about 15 minutes. Although there were boats moored offshore, no craft was in motion except for a kayak.

My wife and I walked the soft sand toward Sachuest Point National Wildlife Refuge past a roped enclosure set up to protect breeding shorebirds. U.S. Fish & Wildlife boundary signs marked the corralled space.

The tide line was rich in slipper shells. Many of the slippers featured a single robust off-white line crossing lengthwise and an inner blotch of dark magenta.

Interspersed were jingle shells, which are also called mermaid toenails or Uncle Bob’s toenails. The jingles were gold, orange or silver gray. However, one relatively large shell contained all three colors in bands that vaguely resembled a rainbow. I’d never seen that color mix and presentation in a jingle shell before.

The water was cool and quite clear. Knee deep in it, you could still see the sandy bottom.

The water was on our left. Sand dunes were on the right. From beyond the dunes a greater yellowlegs called “tew, tew, tew.”

The Cornell Laboratory of Ornithology describes the bird this way: “A common, tall, long-legged shorebird of freshwater ponds and tidal marshes, the Greater Yellowlegs frequently announces its presence by its piercing alarm calls.”

Somewhat similar sounds came from behind us — on the beach just in front of the parking lot. These were the joyous calls of children, whose families sat together in a circle on the sand, serving dinner cooked outdoors over a small open fire.

Some kids ate, while others played in the mud by the waves under watchful eyes. I wondered if the little ones would remember this beach adventure some day.

We could guess that earlier in the day, when the sun was scorching, Third Beach was packed and loud. But now, the cove was left to the day’s survivors, or to those, like us, who had specifically sought to visit before sundown.

Looking out over the water, we saw Little Compton in the distance. The moon was overhead, and just about full. It had been up for a little more than an hour.

Meanwhile over the dunes, the setting sun had turned from yellow to gold to orange. It seemed to grow in size and flatten out somewhat as it sank behind the banks of sand.

A near-full moon to the right, the setting sun to our left; cool, salty air on our skin, and families quietly gathered together on soft sand before gently lapping waves.

Memorable.