It was the first day of fall, yet the vestiges of summer lingered still, a last tenuous grasp before a graceful bow to autumn.
We arrived late, at least, late for us. Usually, we are there in the early morn’, to run along the wavelets before the onslaught of humanity fractures the ethereal symmetry of sand, sea, and sky.
A few hardy souls still ventured into the surf, but we elected to set up shop near the pitifully fragile picket fence, a feeble defense for the wind-scoured dunes.
Here, a semblance of calm was attained, free from the full frontal foamy throttle of a frothy and turbulent sea.
It was perfect.
Julie slept while I read. The blanket was spread, our bags were about, we were barefoot and cozy, and what better way to usher in the first day of fall than to plunge your toes into the warm, inviting sands of a beach?
It was lovely.
In late afternoon the sun valiantly clung to the horizon but proved feeble and soon yielded to an autumnal chill. Wrapped in sweatshirts and blankets, we sat in silence and marveled at the vista before us; quiet, serene, and soothing.
Copyright, Paul Grignon, 2012, All Rights Reserved.