It was early. The sun wasn’t quite up when I awoke to the sounds of waves crashing on the shore outside my open window. As soon as I mentally registered the notion that I might be able to quickly jump from bed, throw on some clothes, grab my camera, and head out the door – all before the sun broke the horizon, it wasn’t a challenge I could ignore.
Walking out into the cool morning air, plaid warmth wrapped around my shoulders, I headed to the end of the wooden walkway that led to the beach. The wind blew strongly from the northeast and it was one of those early mornings that ancient sailors worried about…red sky in the morning, sailors take warning. A faint red hue stretched across the horizon, only broken by the cluster of stringy clouds that paralleled the horizon. The waves crashed as they slowly built upon each other, marching toward the shore, one after the other, each building on the last. The tide was coming in.
I sat, perched on the top of the wooden stairs, looking down to the sand and the slowly eroding patterns being carved into the shore by the coming tide. All around, despite the early morning light, were birds going about their morning hunt. Ebb and flow. Ebb and flow. In and out the waves came, the cycle of life uninterrupted by my morning worries. That’s the beauty of the ocean and this place. Regardless of what life throws at you, this place is timeless. There is a comfort in the consistency of its patterns that wipes the slate clean and allows you to move forward into the unknown.
All photos by the author.
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