Beach combers

We are back from our beach wandering.  I never cease to be left with such a sense of awe after we visit the beach.  The waves crashing and pounding the shore.  The smell of the salt in the air.  The crunch of the shells under our feet.  The colours of the ocean and the sand and the clouds in the sky.  The gathering of people from all walks of life on the beach.  Weddings, family, young and old everyone finds a place.  I love the beach.  I don't love the heat but in the afternoon or early morning as the sun comes up or goes down I love the beach.

I have no clue who this little family is, but they made us smile.  The dad dutifully baiting the sons lines.  The dad dutifully and tirelessly, rebaiting and untangling the lines.  The dad trying to fish himself and having to rescue his boys lines from the snagging rocks.  I remember my own dad doing the same for my sister and I on our boat.  Untangling lines and bating and rebaiting hooks.  Rescuing tiny fish we were so proud of catching, man he had patience.

Not our dogs, stangers really but they were so happy I just had to snap them at play.

I love the wandering and discovering, the beach glass and the shells.  I have collected thousands of shells over the years, some have been beautiful, some have smelt, as unbeknown to us they have harboured crabs and things from the ocean, that when we have gathered them up have died.  Not nice.  But oh the excitement of finding that perfect unbroken shell.  The one with the rainbow inside, or the one that whispers in your ear.  The magic of rockpools.

Then as the sun sets, the boats tie up for the night and the beach becomes quiet but for the waves.  It is a magical place.

Then this morning the sun is gone and it is raining oh how we need the rain.  I am so glad it has finally come, the grass was crunching under our feet, the trees and flowers were dirty, I love this rain.