22 September

the path to short beach

No where does one feel the end of summer 

quite as strongly as in a seaside village.

The beaches are empty again

walks of a morning are mostly solitary....

the piping plovers are still here but overhead we hear the call of Canadian geese

the pink and white of the beach roses 

have turned to orange of rose hips

on the wild bushes along the dunes

and bayberry scents the ocean air now

 goldenrod is blooming on the edge of the path

I've taken to tea of an afternoon on a Sunday 

and while I haven't worn a wooly sweater yet

they are folded in the drawers that yesterday held bathing suits.

I photographed this big piece of driftwood in the morning 

as I walked the beach on my way to the little village market to buy milk.

When my husband and I walked the beach with the boys later that afternoon

the tide had dragged it back out to sea. 


  1. Growing up on the beach, I remember that feeling!
    Thanks for linking up!

  2. Lovely words and beautiful pictures..It sounds like the seasons of life. Always changing.. beauty comes and goes. And as your photo will remain so will the memories of all that we enjoyed this past summer. I'm glad you took a picture of the driftwood. And Now we have fall. More beauty to embrace and memories to make.. Have a wonderful weekend.

    Tamara <3

  3. I did not grow up by a beach, but I can imagine the emptiness that is felt as school begins and summer comes to an end. A beautiful yet peaceful solace I'm sure! Thanks for sharing with SYC.

  4. Like I always say, nothing is better than an empty beach. I love the mood in your pictures.


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