What could be better than the trance enducing dance of ebb and flow to settle a restless mind?
Or the thundering crash of tumultuous foamy brine to invigorate the senses? Is there a greater bliss than watching the waves? Than listening to them?
- I love to close my eyes and inhale that distinctly tangy seaside smell, laden with deep salty seaweed.
- I love to hear the birds. We live on the estuary in a rural area and the chorus of curlew, gull and blackbird is utterly glorious to my ears.
- I love to walk in the water. The length of the beach at the waters edge. Feeling it lap around my ankles as it rushes in, freezing cold at first and then warmer as I acclimatise.
- I love to scour the sand for treasure. A glinting gem of seaglass, the perfect shell (one of millions), the gnarliest piece of driftwood. My pockets are never big enough.
- I love to feel warm breeze on my face. Or wild gusts driving rain into my eyes. I'm not pushed.
- I love to watch my girls run bare legged and gleeful, or draw in the sand.
- I love knowing that my husband is intently watching the ground as we walk, searching for a great piece of seaglass that he can proudly present me with.
This is what I have always wanted. Just this simple life. To look out my window and see the sea. For my children to have a beach as their playground. To find solace in the sound of the waves when I'm feeling overwhelmed. The eternally welly-filled hallway and sandy bed sheets - not so much, but I think the pros far outweigh the cons! Sandy knickers, of course, come with the territory.