For the full length of the beach, the morning sun duelled with the southerly blasts to maintain dominance, to warm the sand, and the tumbling waters. I watched - from my hide in the dune grasses - as the young family weaved their way toward the rock pools at the southern end of the bay, in the lea of the headland, with one lone fisherman perched perilously on the pock-marked sandstone.
Their family tune came to me through the salty air in joyous crotchety squeals, as their bodies outlined a sandy stave for the beat-beat-beat of their naked feet. First, the dominant male, traced a theme of generous arcs, through which the fluid female maintained a steady counterpoint upon the G-string. Accompanying, with bravado and gay abandon, the youngest member of our trio plucked a pizzicato second theme, valiantly attempting a key change to focus all the attention upon him.
Reaching the rock pool, the winds baffled the sound, as they picked their way around, through and among the myriad of warming puddles, playing host to sea anemones, hermit crabs and the ghosts of sea-shells past.
|Flaneur (n). Even a dedicated urban flaneur needs a counterpoint in order to heighten appreciation.|