Build your castles on the sand and they might be washed away. Water creeps or washes in. It sinks down under the sand. The beach quakes. The rocks fall….
What is sand? Silica, ground up rock and shells. Sand can be melted into glass, a solid once liquid. Fused in heat either through vulcanism, lightening (did you know when lightening strikes damp sand it can melt a branching path through it, like plant roots?). Humans also build kilns and create glass to be blown or fused or slumped.
The sea washes or crashes in to a beach. Longshore drift pushes sand and rock sideways and along a coast. In a severe storm sand can be stripped off a beach completely, and yet it can equally be washed back again.
The world warms, water rises, sand washes away, cliffs crumble, castles crumble.
Life changes and evolves.
Cold, wet and windy. But Prestatyn beach this morning was also clean and sandy. The rain showers blew over and although the sun didn’t shine it did try and break through the clouds.
The seahorse is something I drew on the spur of the moment. I usually try and draw a running horse, but this one wanted to be wrapped in mystery, my hubby called it a Merhorse.
This is a painting on my sisters wall which I did a few years ago. I’ve put it up because I want to go back. But I don’t think I will this year as the summer is rapidly running out. Maybe I can sneak off for a few days but I’ve got lots of things coming up. Is October too late for a summer holiday? We will have to wait and see what the weather is like. I don’t want to be freezing in a caravan in a storm!
The place? Bovisand Bay, in Devon. Acrylic on canvas.
Mooching round Morecambe. The B&B we are at is very friendly and if anyone is disturbing the other guests it’s probably us. My hubby decided to explore the ‘sands’ on the beach tonight, but got stuck in the mud instead. He’s cleaned his sandals in the shower while I cleaned up all the mud he’d walked into the bedroom carpet! I dare not look outside at the stairs. For that reason I’m not naming the place here although I would call it excellent on trip advisor.
It’s been a long drive and a long day. So rather than doing my usual thing of blogging into the night I’m going to listen to the sound of the traffic driving past…. My hubby coughing because he’s got a bit of a chest infection and the noise of people going home late from the pub. Hope I sleep better than last night, it was 4.30am before I fell asleep….
The cry of gulls
Smell of fish and chips.
Hotel guests slamming doors
Cars blocking roads
The memory of candy floss
Mint flavoured sticks of rock.
Crying and laughing children,
Sandy beaches and pebbles
Then a sudden squall
Rain bears down on us,
Winds blow strongly,
Retreat to the hotel,
Soaking clothes drip.
Ah, a proper seaside holiday.
Well it’s not a sea view although it is pleasant. I can’t see it because I’m having a lie down after a long drive. Hotel seems nice and friendly, we will see what its like for noise later on. That’s one thing that bothers me in hotels, noisy neighbours. I think people should respect each other. That’s why we usually choose caravans. I also bring coffee and sweetener with me in case there isn’t enough. And I hate uht milk….
Sue Vincent’s challenge.
The clarity of my memory was funny, it came and went, but I felt certain that I had been on this beach, in this bay, before.
Perhaps it was the scent of the sea, seaweed, and the aromatic plants on the shore that took me back. Or the azure water, the sandy beach or the dark craggy rocks that caught in the folds of my memory.
Yes, the island in the far distance, in my memory I clearly saw a lighthouse there. Not visible here, but as you sailed out beyond the headland it would come into view, built of the hard stone that makes up the coast. On stormy nights it saved many a sailor, and its booming voice could be heard on foggy days and nights.
Now I remember with clarity why I was there. There is a cave just beyond the tideline. I’d been snorkeling in the bay and found a small chest, iron clad and rusted shut. The cave had seemed a good place to hide it. I was only eleven and it was exciting to hide a treasure chest. Plus my brother would have claimed it if I’d shown it him.
Now it was thirty years later, was it still there?
The dubloons had bought me my yatch. Now I am free to visit the bay any time I want.