In November, Coastal Living ran an excellent essay by author Jonathan Miles, "Forgotten Beaches."  I have saved the essay because I like to reread the last paragraph, part of which reads:  

[A] beach is a state of mind.  It's a child's brain igniting from the wonder of the land's edge, from the immensity of the landless horizon.  It's glancing up from a novel to glimpse the magnitude ofthe Earth.  It's lifting an upside-down plastic bucket to reveal a castle made of sand, the fortress fora fleeting beachfront civilization.  It'ss the sand-encrusted, sun-roasted, slightly barbecued feeling at the close of a shoreline day.  It's the way an ice-cream stand appears like a roadside oasis on the way home, the way  a soft-serve cone feels like the antidote to an overdose of sun and water, pleasure remedying pleasure.  We go to the beach, in some ways to liberate ourselves from the distinctions of life, because at the water's edge we are all rendered the same:  supplicants of happiness.  The beach itself does not matter.  Joy does.

Wishing you every joy in the New Year!


Skywatch Friday