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Posts Tagged ‘sand’

There’s just one thing you probably can’t figure out from this picture story: what the guys are singing …

“All my exes live in Texas/ It’s why I hang my hat in Tennessee.”

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I find so many more photo ops in summer than in winter, although that may mean I am not paying enough attention when it’s cold out. Surely there are great shadows everywhere.

Here are a few pictures from the last two weeks.

From New Shoreham: a field with Fresh Pond in the upper left corner, yellow lichen taking over a stone wall and trees, roses growing by a gate, children warming up in the dark sand. In Providence: a shady walk on the west side of the Providence River, a painted butterfly on the path, a swan preening, a distant view of the so-called Superman Building, public art with a muskrat fishing (?), a poster explaining the art project. In Massachusetts: shadows on a tree, a chipmunk on a lichen-covered rock.

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I have a bunch of island pictures for you again, having had a few days to take my time with things. The slow pace makes a nice change, but I wouldn’t want it every day of the year.

At least it has helped me make a serious dent in the first volume of Karl Ove Knausgaard’s multivolume memoirish novel.

The pictures don’t need much explanation. Wonderful clouds. Tiny jellyfish like diamonds where the waves pencil their retreat on the sandy shore. An approved path down the bluffs to a rocky beach.

Rhode Island taught me what the English meant by “shingle,” the smooth round stones that Matthew Arnold describes: “Listen, you hear the grating roar of pebbles, which the waves draw back and fling at their return up the high strand.” I first heard that sound in a Misquamicut motel at night, decades ago now.

 

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There’s nothing like good weather in Rhode Island in July. Good for walks and going to the beach. Good for a hardworking fishing industry, too.

Here are a few recent photos.

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At the WordPress blog Montreal in Pictures, Martin has posted his beautiful photos of beautiful sand sculptures. Hard to believe this in a city beach.

Sand is challenging to work with. You have to keep it wet. But not too wet or it gets sloppy. The pros keep misting their creations lightly with spray bottles. I imagine sculpting in ice entails other very specific challenges. Especially if there is a warm spell at New Year’s.

Suzanne and John often participated in sand-sculpture contests in the summer. It was good fun, although you rarely saw anything as elaborate as the creations in Montreal. I don’t think anyone on the island organizes such competitions anymore, so we just try to be alert and have a camera ready for spontaneous solitary eruptions of creative energy.

Lots more great sand-sculpture photos by Martin here.

Photograph: Martin New at Montreal in Pictures

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No doubt I would have grown up to be a photographer if the Brownie cameras and box cameras I used as a child had not gotten sand in them. After at least a week of high anticipation, the film kept coming back black. Very discouraging. All the effort I had put into creating little still-life scenes with dolls and sea shells — wasted!

So a word to the wise, if you take a camera to the beach, protect it.

I got a few pictures on this lovely June day, but I fear they lack the artistry that surely would have been evident had sand not mysteriously worked its way into all cameras in my youth.

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One of the great things about going to the beach with your toddler grandson is seeing it through his eyes and remembering your own early experiences.

I remember the first time I went to Fire Island and played in the tide pools on the broad, sandy beach. My brother and I didn’t want to leave, and my parents also seemed relaxed and playful.

This morning I asked my in-law children whether they recalled any early beach memories. My daughter-in-law remembered an overcast week on Cape Cod, where she and her younger sisters liked climbing on a rocky jetty that stretched out into the water along the sand.

Erik, growing up in Sweden, didn’t see a lot of sandy beaches but has lovely summer memories of the islands of the Archipelego — climbing on the rocks and exploring. He also spent a lot of time on the water in boats and remains an avid sailor.

Here is Erik’s nephew climbing the rocks on the Swedish seacoast as Erik did at that age.

Here is my grandson with his mom yesterday. He was crazy about the ocean. And although he is not quite walking yet, he held hands and ran like mad along the sand, shrieking for joy.

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