Among the dunes you become people that time forgot, away from the cares of home and everyday niggles. Breathe deep, expand your lungs. Feel the fresh air, the honeysuckle glaze, the copper of sun-crisped seaweed the cry of freedom from wheeling birds. Breathing here is beyond mechanical, it is magical.
Agapanthus sway among the dunes, tall blue Pom-poms floating above the sea grass stalks, gilded in early sunlight. Enamelled beetles with wing cases of copper, emerald, vermillion and ochre clamber like explorers among the stems while painted butterflies probe into the depth of succulent flower hearts.
At the tide line, waves unroll onto the shore revealing a bounty of freshly laundered shells, tumbled in a blend of cream and grey and earthy hues, some worked down to their mother of pearl undergarments. So many creatures live hidden from sight, hidden by the soup of sea and sand.
Curlews cry and come to land on the arc of wet sand. They goose-step in double time down the beach through the silver ribbons of shallow ripples, pausing to eye tell-tale sand bubbles then go to work, mining for the hidden treasure.
A fishing boat forges through the background, folds of tule mist hanging loosely over the blue that reaches to the horizon and embraces it , melds with it. There is a promise of fresh crab, lobster, sweet secrets below the waves.
Our hearts could be more giving if we were nurtured daily in this loving embrace.
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