I live near to the sea but often it’s a long time between drinks. When I do make the visit, I wonder why I left it so long. Sometimes at night I can hear the ocean. It reminds me of the town I lived in as a young child when I could hear the sea calling at night. Even when living there in that seaside town, visits to the beach a mere fifteen minutes away at the most, were not all that frequent. We tended to spend more time in the bush instead as the farm my father worked on was bordered by native forest.
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On this visit the dunes caught my eye. Last time it was the sea grasses, this time the swoops and sweeps of the sand dunes was what appealed.
From where I was standing to take these photos, it’s a long and steep-ish drop to the beach itself with conditions not all that conducive to walking (although I did spot some people enjoying a stroll along the sand). This time I preferred to stick to the road above. Easier walking. I’ll leave the bare footed walks by lapping waves for the summer months ahead.
I am not sure when my next beach walk will be. Just last weekend I was nearer to mountains. In a way they are like solidified waves. Rock solid crests containing something wise, mysterious and peaceful.
They say that you are either a beach person or a mountain person. If forced to choose, I’d probably choose the beach. However if truth be told, my preferences swing between the two. Which is the story of my life. I often find myself stuck in the middle somewhere in between two states / conditions / preferences / definitions. It’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot recently. But that’s another story for another day.
