Out at Horseneck Beach
I drove out through the winding country roads to get to Horseneck. I seem to remember going here when I was young, but can't recall a single memory of the beach other than the name. I'm sure we piled into the station wagon to drive there. I believe my parents owned a fleet of them over the course of my childhood! Actually saying the name, Horseneck Beach conjures up an image of a station wagon, not a beach. It was blowin' a stiff breeze the day of my visit last week, and there were a few hardy souls out walking the beach as I was. Indeed there was a family (mom, dad and a young boy at the water's edge.) The boy was tossing one of the many colorful stones that cover the beach into the curling green waves. (Horseneck is a very rocky beach, unlike it's nearby Newport neighbors). I watched the kid fight his artillery battle with a handful of rocks against the ocean. I've long since stopped tossing things into the sea, realizing the ocean is much more capable of tossing it back to the beach, and has an eternity on it's side.
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