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.
9 comments:
I could be wrong (and wouldn't that be a surprise!), but I thought Masefield was talking about going down to the sea in ships, not on foot.
Or, for that matter, hands....
This makes my heart miss Charleston and the beach even more. I told my hubby I'm having withdrawals from that magical place!
Scrib - I get to pick the verse that suits my purpose - ha!
Reagan - You will be back!
Wonderful photos. I love the one of the woman in the red sweater, it's very sweet.
Love the handstand shot. It would make a great newspaper front page.
I must down to the seas again...
Finished "South of Broad" several days ago and seriously had to fight off an incredible urge to drive down and walk on the Battery and breath in the sea air.
Images full of exuberance.
I can completely relate. I left Long Island and lived inland for seven years, and the only reason for moving back home that was stronger than "you can't get good pizza or real bagels here" was that I needed... NEEDED... the ocean. On the island, even when you can't see the ocean, the air has a salty tang. I like to live where I can drive a little ways north or a little ways south and be at the ocean's edge. It's in my blood, I guess.
All of those photos made me want to come on down. And they went so well with your chosen quote - a good uplift, thanks!
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