This may have been our last summery weekend ... or not. One never knows. So when it is summery at the end of September, it seems important to grab the bull by the horns (or, more reasonably, the horse by the reins) and go to the beach. Problem is: horses aren't allowed on the beach for another week.
I've always been afraid of horses anyway (they're so big!).
Could someone please click to enlarge, then tell me what language is second from the left?? I'm at a loss.
And I'm certainly at a loss to understand why riding a huge, reluctant horse into the water seems like a good (or comfortable) idea ...
Still, I rode to Third Beach yesterday. On my bike, not a horse. I had my sights set on Second — seriously, I stood there and looked at it — but it was too windy to be inviting. Third is just around the corner yet another world. Once there, I saw ... nothing in particular. Just people; not many. They were dressed in everything from bikinis to blue jeans & windbreakers. One or two were swimming. And one or two dogs were swimming, although dogs aren't allowed either. Not technically; not mid-afternoon; not unleashed. I say that having read the sign(s) to which I'd locked my bike, granting me an up-close look at the rules.
(You can have an up-close look, too, if you click any image to enlarge ...)
But the oddest sight on that unremarkable-if-lovely day was the narrow sandbar of sorts that had appeared, however mysteriously, since my last visit; perhaps it was the result of a storm or weird tide. Winter does result in shifting sands. But it's not winter (!!). Not yet. And this was above the high-tide line, so perhaps it was the result of something less mysterious, like a bulldozer.
And walking along that sandbar/dune/barrier/whatever, which worked really well as a windbreaker for those of us not ready to don windbreakers of the nylon variety, were three young girls. Sisters?? I can't be sure, but they appeared to be sisters, unless they were three friends of diverse ages, which seems less likely. And it really doesn't matter ...
What matters is that it was warm. Bright. And pleasant. And the three girls were emitting such warm, bright and pleasant energy as they ran, laughed and balanced along the dune, man-made or otherwise. Despite a few minor beach rules regarding dogs and horses being broken — and an unknown language being spoken (or written); one language on the sign reminding everyone to keep the beach clean seemed totally unfamiliar — I couldn't imagine that any harm was being done ...
Could someone please click to enlarge, then tell me what language is second from the left?? I'm at a loss.
And I'm certainly at a loss to understand why riding a huge, reluctant horse into the water seems like a good (or comfortable) idea ...