Every Sunday morning last winter I would get myself out of bed (on a good day before 8) and drive half an hour to a beach for a morning walk.
The wind would be cold.
The sand would be freezing to the point of not being able to feel my feet (I have a beach rule with no shoes).
And the waves would be harsh.
But at that time of the day it was mine. I shared this with no other souls and for a small handful of time the world was all my own.
With a holiday weekend comes extra time and I took the opportunity to return to the beach I have visited far too little this year and capture some images.
 |
| From where I came |
 |
| Starfish shaped seaweed |
 |
| Horses and tracks |
 |
| Lone fisherman and his friend |
 |
| Lines leading to the misty distance |
Posts
Post a Comment