We walk to the beach almost every day. Some mornings the clock doesn’t yet read 6 am and Amos is already asking to go, but it is usually mid-morning before I start pushing the stroller down the driveway. This morning we arrived after dog beach hours and before any other parents and young kids showed up to climb on the playground and dig in the sand. For a while we were the only people on the beach. There was hardly a breeze which made 60 degrees feel comfortably warm. The tide was just beginning to slink out as we walked all the way to where the stretch of sand is cut off by rocks.

Although I have seen the lighthouse, the islands, the water, and the cute toddler in the sand so many times, I can rarely resist snapping a few pictures. Each day is different and places change, subtly, from moment to moment. The tide goes out, expands the size of the beach, and reveals thousands of pebbles and shells and clumps of seaweed. A windy day stirs up the water giving it texture and energy. It can be freeing to just be and observe without needing to take a picture but I think the urge to take a photograph is, in a way, an acknowledgement of the beauty and wonder of a place. Spring brings color and blossoms to every patch of grass and tree branch and being able to spend time at the beach without layers of coats and wind whipped faces is wondrous in itself. Amos and I spend most of our days in areas that we can walk to and sometimes I feel unmotivated to repeat the same routes and views over and over. Once we are on our way, though, there is always something new to observe and I am delighted that we can so easily reach such special places.

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