Winter is a great time to go the beach. No crowds, low light, almost other worldly. It’s about textures, patterns, shapes and details. Size and perspective are lost.
My footsteps were the first to press the firm, unbroken sands — nothing before had trampled them since last night’s flowing tide had obliterated the deepest marks of yesterday, and left them fairand even, except where the subsiding water had left behind it the traces of dimpled pools and little running streams. — Anne Bronte from Angus Grey
a magical time
when the sea shares
a brief peek of some of its secrets
strolling barefoot in the sand
a sensual experience
exploring an ephemeral landscape
decorated with treasures,
fringed by undulating surf
that teases and tickles,
suspended between time and space,
like wandering through a dream
knowing it will soon melt away,
reminding us that our time here is fleeting.
Photos by Diana Thornton