It's March in North Carolina, and summer is coming and going like a dizzy flirt. Cross the bridge, cross the dunes, come to the beach. It's summer.

From March 24, 2012

This is the beach where alcohol and any glass bottles are prohibited in the name of protecting the integrity of this beautiful beach, this liminal space between dry land and that beautiful mystery we call the Atlantic. But who needs rules--especially when the need to get buzzed is so overwhelming?

From March 24, 2012
Look up from the trash as darkness falls and enjoy these guys. Watch them ride the thermals and loop round and round and play in a beautiful aerial dance and then off they go to fish.
From March 24, 2012
From March 24, 2012

Watch your step, though. You might trip over some non-biodegradable remant of somebody else's happiness, some lethal pile of plastic that just won't go away.

From March 24, 2012
From February 26, 2012

Then, there's the McDonald's refuse that will need picking up. Even if McDonald's is a good six miles away and nothing could possibly get here warm. The kind of people willing to settle for that at the beach are also clueless enough to let the beach Cinderellas clean up after them. They are somehow entitled. Just ask them as they loiter around the toilets and in the parking lot at closing time. They love watching you clean up for them. It's a private joke they share with Ronald McDonald. To hell with the planet; the entitled have arrived. Pick it up, though. Because these feathered guys are depending on you, and they are worth the trouble.

(Thanks to Adella for the bottom two photos, which she took with my dad last month down in Surf City.)