For some reason we mostly go to the seaside at Christmas, and not at all in high summer. Of course a beach can be a dramatic place any time of the year – changing and unchanging all at once, figuratively and physically. How we treat with it reflects our current mood or emotion – heightening or lowering it, depending on our inclinations.
This photo was taken on Ynys Mon, the island of Anglesey in North Wales. It was Boxing Day. The wind was perishing yet spirit-filling too, but then I always find ‘going to the beach’ exciting, in much the same way as I did when I was four. You just never know what you will find there in the margins between land and sea.
So here we have a tumble of razor shells embedded in a beach stream that was running off the marshy hinterland. I think there’s a viscid quality about the stream in the winter’s light, as if the shells have fixed there by the water rather than by the shift of sand. I like the slashes of greyish-white across medley of ochre shades. An intriguing state of disorder, then: the beach endlessly creating its own artwork.
Tish Farrell 
I think that beaches look better in wintertime. This is a beautiful shot. Organised disorder I would say echoing the words of my blogger friend Tobias 🙂 Gorgeous image, Tish! And thank you!
🙂
Reminds me of the beauty of all the dead plants in winter, Tish. Nature is full of unexpected and different “artwork.”
janet
Having a terrible time trying to eat this and read digestive biscuits! They keep diving into my coffee. I’m blaming you, Tish 🙂 🙂 You know how I am for beaches. That’s me stomping off into the distance, muttering! It’s probably saved my marriage a time or two. Lovely words and image. Typical you, in fact. Happy Thursday!
Oh dear. Nothing worse than too soggy biscuits in one’s cuppa. But you can be sure I could see you in my mind’s eye as I was writing this post 🙂
😕 😕
I love the beech any time of year and enjoyed your thoughts and photos.
Cheers, Charlie.
Lovely images and excellent prose, as ever, Tish!
Thank you, Sue.
I love your capture of the threshold between land and sea.
🙂
So many memories of Welsh beaches, from South to North. Mostly cold, but loads of fun.
Although I did get a touch of sunstroke on a Welsh beach (forget which one) as a teen, would you believe?
Used to collect these shells and stick them onto old (empty) Maxwell House coffee jars.
A phase no doubt. 🙂
I used to collect them too. My holiday souvenirs were usually a sun-browned back of neck, and a bucket full of increasingly smelly shells. Aaaah. The sunstroke is indeed hard to credit. Our family holidays always involved the imposed wearing of cotton hats, and finding somewhere to sit ‘out of the wind’.
It was early or mid 70’s I think? One of those freak summers where water restrictions were the norm and tarmac was melting on country lanes!
Typical post from you Tish, delightful image and even more delightful words. Love the disorder 🙂
Thank you, Jude.
That photograph would pass for a painting.
That thought crossed my mind too 🙂
They look like discarded knife blades. I wouldn’t want to walk barefoot there.
Indeed not. I’ve had a few nasty cuts as a child.
I thought they were silver fish for a moment…but can see the blades too.
I really like the sea art! and if you do not mind, I would like to add this part of your post on an upcoming beach post –
“Of course a beach can be a dramatic place any time of the year – changing and unchanging all at once, figuratively and physically. How we treat with it reflects our current mood or emotion – heightening or lowering it, depending on our inclinations.”
Of course you can 🙂 Thanks for wanting to.
👍🏼