First Taste of Summer

“If I had influence with the good fairy who is supposed to preside over the christening of all children, I should ask that her gift to each child in the world be a sense of wonder so indestructible that it would last throughout life.” ― Rachel Carson, “The Sense of Wonder” 
I was writing this column sitting in our little boathouse on the marsh near The Wetlands Institute. I seek no other summer home. 
Large windows 6 feet from my eyelashes enable snooping at my neighbors. I feel honored to spy on the herons and egrets that build nests and raise their young on the swaying Kelly green grasses that grow each spring from brown stubble of winter.
I had watch on one great white egret that I guessed to be 5-feet tall, so powerful did it stand watch as I admired my handsome neighbor.
If you could come back in your next life, which animal would you like to inhabit? For me, it is a toss-up between the wise, huge grey elephant and the graceful white egret. One is solid and filled with wisdom, but the other can swoop and dive. 
On our Carolina Skiff, we can slowly and silently glide into the tiny canals behind our house, to visit the nests of the egrets and herons. They do not want guests, so we do not stay long.  
Charcoal brown cormorants have had babies in their nest painstakingly constructed in early spring on a brown wooden perch built by The Wetlands Institute. They are but two houses away and across the narrow channel near the Inland Coastal way at the tiny fishing bridge a mile from the Stone Harbor bridge.
With our telescope, John and I watch the impressive speed with which the young grow from brown-eyed speckled fledglings. In a week or so, they will begin the elegant swooping and diving we have come to know from our backyard neighbors.
On the last day of school, granddaughters Ava and Sara were hungry to return to “their” ocean. We landed at sunset. No mortal swam in the coldish water.
Usually, I swim no matter what, but the drive had been frustrating. The girls slid on suits and cartwheeled down to the ocean. They are strong swimmers, but undertow is full of surprises, so they agreed to stay waist deep.
A long sandbar allowed them access to a bit of distance from shore. They bobbed and dove waves till their teeth chattered from 30 minutes in the 61-degree water.  They returned to shore triumphant, summer had officially begun! “Can we come tomorrow? Will you swim with us? It is great!”
They slid into cartwheels on the firm sand in the deep pink and orange sunset. I wondered who might feel luckier at this moment in time – ocean, sand, kids, sunset. Perfection.
Returning to our cottage, we reported to their pop-pop that the ocean had dished up summer. We three had lucked into teal green waves of happiness to start the summer right.
Each summer is both the same and different. Why do we love new experiences?
Research tells us that our brains are attracted to novelty and that mastering new experiences improves our learning capacity. As familiar as the ocean is to me, each wave is new. And, because new experiences engage our full attention, they activate a “novelty center” in the brain, which responds to these unique stimuli.
Called the SN/VTA, it is linked to large roles in learning and memory. Our encounters with completely new stimuli activate the most learning because each new stimulus creates a rush of motivation to explore. Exploration promises us a reward in learning and pleasure. 
When we see something new, we see it has a potential for rewarding us in some way. This novelty motivates us to explore our environment for rewards.
A seashore environment offers huge amounts of novel stimuli for your brain. To increase your awareness and your delight, set aside time to explore novel stimuli.
Hunt down sea glass on a bay beach, meander turtle trails on the wetlands, watch the herons at sunrise. Invest your vacation moments each day to learn of a new life form, go to a new beach, and find a new shell.
And, if the silly grin on your face tells you that life cannot be better, share this happiness with others. Sharing happy times cements our awareness and increases the joy of each moment.
To consider: Which animal would you like to inhabit in your next life, should this be feasible? What about our summers inspire you to a sense of wonder? And, please, do enjoy it; you are likely to be glad you did.
To read: Rachel Carson. The Sense of Wonder. 1998. Harper Row 
Dr. Judith Coche is an inveterate beach dweller, marshland fan, and clinical psychologist. She works with individuals, couples, and families in Stone Harbor as well as in Rittenhouse Square, Philadelphia. Find her at www.cochecenter.com