Thursday, 15 July 2010


Our holidays have rarely taken us to the long sandy beaches of childhood - when it would take time to walk to the sea for a paddle and even longer to return, bucket in hand filled with treasures of the deep.

The sands at the mouth of the estuary stretch as far as the eye can see, with shallow pools rippling in the breeze. The currents have etched the sand, each forming a different pattern.
This one reminded me of a gentle argyle.

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