Forward tales to tide
Abandoning ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spatch to the mercy of voracious kittens, I have fled to the Cape with my parents for a couple of days. Naturally the weather promptly turned rainy and cold, but that did not stop me from visiting the salt marsh at Bass Hole Boardwalk, which we had seen from Chapin Beach in June. I took some pictures and my father took a picture of me.
My camera does not always understand contrast, but look at the sweep of that sky.
Low tide on the salt roads.
The photographer in one of their natural habitats. I should note that we were otherwise masked. So, gratifyingly, were the majority of people on the boardwalk. I heard five different languages.
Quite abruptly the sun came out, granting us an attractive reverse shot of the far shore of Chapin Beach. Next time I am here at low tide, maybe I will wade over myself.
The silt-green shallows were swarming with tiny fish wriggling silver, green crabs sidling across the mud, hermit crabs being territorial. A striped bass leapt twice after the insects starting to skim low over the water. My father asked me what it was and I could not refrain from answering, wistfully, "Dinner."
I have missed these sea-clouds.
And the textile glass of currents and wind.
The panorama of the sunset was starting to call out fewer masks and more mosquitos, so we left, but I left with the salt smell in my hair.
My chances at a beach tomorrow will depend on the density of other humans, but it helps so much, just being near the sea.
spatch to the mercy of voracious kittens, I have fled to the Cape with my parents for a couple of days. Naturally the weather promptly turned rainy and cold, but that did not stop me from visiting the salt marsh at Bass Hole Boardwalk, which we had seen from Chapin Beach in June. I took some pictures and my father took a picture of me.
My camera does not always understand contrast, but look at the sweep of that sky.
Low tide on the salt roads.
The photographer in one of their natural habitats. I should note that we were otherwise masked. So, gratifyingly, were the majority of people on the boardwalk. I heard five different languages.
Quite abruptly the sun came out, granting us an attractive reverse shot of the far shore of Chapin Beach. Next time I am here at low tide, maybe I will wade over myself.
The silt-green shallows were swarming with tiny fish wriggling silver, green crabs sidling across the mud, hermit crabs being territorial. A striped bass leapt twice after the insects starting to skim low over the water. My father asked me what it was and I could not refrain from answering, wistfully, "Dinner."
I have missed these sea-clouds.
And the textile glass of currents and wind.
The panorama of the sunset was starting to call out fewer masks and more mosquitos, so we left, but I left with the salt smell in my hair.
My chances at a beach tomorrow will depend on the density of other humans, but it helps so much, just being near the sea.
no subject
So beautiful. So beautiful. lovely lovely salt marsh
no subject
I've never met one I didn't like. Including on your map-melon.