Yesterday evening, as we walked the familiar sandy path from my grandparents house to the beach, I said to myself, "Oops. I forgot to write on the blog today."
Grey aimed a kick at the sand, showering the plants. The sand makes a trickling, shivering sound like a rain stick as it falls through the leaves. Grey squeezed on my hand for a little extra balance.
"That's okay, Mama," he said.
You know what? He's super right. Our busy day, full of hikes down winding paths, trips to the park, seashell collecting on the shore, and chocolate milk shakes and burgers was pretty dang perfect. I hope you won't feel bad that I'm having a hard time making room for you, dear blog.
But now, it is morning and my kids are still asleep. So here are the pictures from Monday that I'd planned to share yesterday of the beach.
It's practically perfect in every way.
When we go to California, I just can't stand the beach! I don't want to drive to the beach, I want to walk barefoot out my front door and just be there.
I don't want a million other people there, I just want it to be my family and the occasional jogger passing by.
Don't give us that sand that's too smooth to walk on, or too rocky to play in. Just that perfect sand texture.
I don't want to wear a wetsuit because the water's too cold, I want the water to be just right, like a bathtub as it starts to cool down.
I want to practically trip over seashells and sea glass. I want to see dolphins and never worry that they're sharks. I don't care that the wave are small, as long as they don't knock down my babies and drag them out to sea.
Chesapeake Bay. The perfect little slice of the ocean.
Hark! Is that little feet I hear on the stairs? Sounds like it's time to start another day in paradise.