On our way to the beach on this blustery day we stopped for drinks and sandwiches to eat once we drove out onto the packed, wet sand to find a good place to park our little car We do that every now and then; drive down to the water’s front, point ourselves straight out to the breaking waves, roll down one of our windows so we can hear them crashing, and leave the other windows up to avoid the strong breeze while we eat and talk. We used to carry our chairs along in the trunk but we’ve found that for us, sitting in the car with the window open is comfortable and suits us just fine. We like to sit where we are less conspicuous as we do what we love to do, and that is people watching. I like to watch and “suppose” about who they are as little snitches of their lives pass before me.
Today was warmer than yesterday and not raining, so there were a lot of beachcombers out and about. None of them seemed to worry a bit about what any of the others were up to. At the ocean’s shores it is almost like everyone has their own private little vacation pod, even though we are in plain sight of each other and go so far as to pass the time of day.
Some of us thought it was rather chilly today in spite of the peek-a-boo sun that for the most part stayed behind the ominous gray clouds gliding silently above us.
The soaring kites, even the highest of them, weren’t a threat to the dancing clouds.
We were sitting inside our car with windows down but sweaters on. Most of the casual walkers were in levi’s and sweatshirts with hoodies pulled up over their heads. Other people had their hands jammed tightly in the pockets of their jackets with caps pulled snugly down on their heads as they huddled together laughing and talking. Some, believe it or not, wore jackets and caps and were out wading where the waves were hitting thigh high on their Levi’s.
A few of the real die hards were out in the ocean in their swimming suits just north of the one lone, wannabe surfer. I saw two brand new babies swaddled tightly and held protectively in their father’s arms while darling toddlers were throwing sand and and trying to get away from their parents. The only way they will ever know they’ve been to the Pacific Ocean is from the photo albums.
There were trucks, bicycles, horses, cars of all sizes, and even motor homes parked on the sandy shores. Up and down the beach were trails of smoke as people attempted to burn the semi dry wood purchased from the venders along the highway.
I have a some troubling questions: (1) How can so many people feel they are having private outings in such a public place? (2) How can so many people be so differently affected by the temperature? (3) If dog owners have to pick up their dog’s poop how come horse owners don’t have to clean up after their horses?
Disclaimer … I don’t know any of these dogs or people or horses and out of respect for large bottoms everywhere I did not post the picture of the back sides of the really large people in low riders who were bending over by the water! (Lynn you really need to get a grip!)
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Ocean Shores4 Comments
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