This was the penultimate weekend on my beach.
I know I have no right to be so possessive, but in the years that I have been taking pictures upon its numberless grains of sand I feel I have grown to know it intimately, and probably more so than many who pass this way. The beach has been my companion for nearly 20 years, and as my marriage (which has spanned a similar number of years) ends so I will be heading soon for pastures new, with hopes and aspirations to match.
Today I mused upon the power of nature, and how like the Hindu Lord Shiva it is both beneficent and destructive. In the midst of tough and windswept grasses it provides a burst of colour with a rogue patch of daffodils, yet elsewhere there is plenty of evidence of its power to destroy. Shattered and eroded stones litter the beach; and the sand itself is a constant reminder of the natural world to reduce even the hardest stone to tiny grains that are susceptible to even the tiniest breath of wind.
Timber is just as defenceless, and there is plenty of evidence around of wood, both natural and shaped by man, that has been unable to withstand Mother Nature‘s moments of aggression.
Unwelcome as this detritus my be, nature is or will be the victor, interring the remains within the sands and grasses, like some archeological exhumation in reverse and creating in infinite range of shapes and textures.