I wrote this other day while writing on the beach. I just found it as I had forgotten about it. It was simply describing my chosen office for that day. Today I am out in the backyard under the shade of a cherry tree:
I am on a beach. Partly sandy, partly rocky, some seaweed lays about and the tide is out. Way out. The sky is mostly blue but the clouds are coming, There are some nice puffy clouds and a long bank of threatening grey clouds creeping in from the northern horizon. Other then the scars on the landscape and a few washed up pieces of garbage in the distance the only clues of human activity is a couple sailboats in the distance and a plane that flew over an hour ago.
The swallows are flying by in such a beautiful formation. They are getting increasingly closer the longer I sit here. A couple minutes ago one flew between my computer screen and my face. I can still hear the seals in the distance. I have seen gulls, herons, and gulls and other birds I cannot identify. There are some bugs crawling around me including a big black beetle that seems so out of place on light grey sand.
It is calm with a gentle breeze starting that was not there a half hour ago. The temperature is cool but I am dressed well for the day. The air filled with complex smells that I cannot place all of them. Seaweed is the dominant smell but there is more that has been picked up from the ocean and land around where I sit.
The wind is really starting to pick up now and is drowning out some of the subtle sounds. We would call this place peaceful yet there is so much to listen too. I can tune in to birds singing from all directions, the wind blowing through different trees, and the sound of the sand it blows around. I now hear a saw behind me, another sign of human life.
I came here to write, to connect, to dream. I came here to discover, to reflect and to escape. I came here to belong.
I have been here two hours now and no person has come to share my beach with me. I cannot wait any longer as I have places to go and things to do. Pity.