So, I've decided to make it a little tradition (in my head, I suppose) that I make it to the coast at least once during the winter. I actually enjoy the beach so much more in the winter than I do in the summer -- you can actually enjoy the serenity, the brisk air, the washed up shells that haven't been smashed to pieces quite yet. Not to mention all the dogs and people with metal detectors make for great amusement.
So for the past few years I've dragged my boy with me. The hour-long ride flies by, and when we arrive it's like approaching a ghost town. There's this long getty that extends a great bit into the little cove there, and we decided to make it our mission to climb to the end. Here's some shots from our little winter excursion.
I felt like a nobody on this tiny spot surrounded by blue. Tyler and I joked what would happened if it was suddenly high-tide or if a crazy tsunami swept us away. We sat there for a good while until we couldn't feel our extremities and our noses were too runny to manage.
It's moments like these that I forever long for every year, and I remember for years longer.
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