I found the perfect little beach today and had it all to myself, for not another soul was in sight. I sat for ages just watching the Atlantic rolling in great waves and thundering against the shoreline with gulls swooping and diving headlong into the frothy water. There is nothing more therapeutic than crashing waves, but there is one moment I love above all others. Just as the wave has crested and starts to tumble down, before it dissipates into a burst of foam, there is a moment when there is a perfect curl of water suspended impossibly in the air. I think of it as the moment that the ocean holds its breath.
For more about the beach I visited, and some rather unusual geese, see here.