Fog, Sand, and Water

It was a beautiful day on the beach, at least I thought so. I love it when it’s cloudy, a bit foggy, and too chilly for crowds of people. As always, I began to click away with my cell phone camera. I caught Dad surveying the ocean or sitting on ‘his’ bench, the obligatory short video of the ocean. Sandpipers ran in and out of the foam created by the ebb and flow of the sea at the sand’s edge. A few people sat in front of a tent some distance down the shoreline. Then, as always, I turned toward the dunes. I love how their soft shapes contrast with the sharp lines and perspective created by the line of storm fences. Such thin pieces of wood and wire to hold back the weight of the sand that wind blows around in a gale. No matter how many photos I take on that stretch of beach, what I see in the images is never the same.  

Later that week, when I looked at the images, I saw a rainbow. I had not noticed it at all while we were there. It surprised me. Yet it did not. I was not looking for a rainbow.  

I realized that I have been taking pictures to document where I have been, who is with me, and what we saw there. In fact, I have not been “seeing” any of it. I have been taking pictures, then going home to see what I did not see. I’ve been missing a lot.

The next time Dad and I drove out I kept my phone in my jacket pocket. It was an enjoyable day at the beach. One I actually experienced while I there.