Folly Beach, S.C.
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.
By John Masefield (1878-1967).
(English Poet Laureate, 1930-1967.)
It was that kind of day, wasn't it? So bright and warm it felt wrong to be inside. I wish I knew the head-stand gal's name so I could send her a copy of her picture. The lower photo is of my friend Debby who invited me to walk the beach on this perfect morning.
I hope everyone has had a good weekend.