The other evening, during the most recent outbreak of chilly and refreshing Canadian air, Joe and I walked on Juno Beach. We took our shoes off after descending the coconut palm lined walk and boards to the beach. Joe said, “Darn, the sand is cold,” as we walked to the edge of the rushing waves. I stopped to put a foot gingerly in the surf and discovered it to be much warmer than the 68-Fahrenheit degree air and algid sand. Perhaps that shouldn’t have been a surprise since the Gulf Stream runs three miles off shore.
We practically had the beach to ourselves and I snapped more than a hundred photographs. Of course that resulted in about ten good shots and ninety that had to be trashed. This picture of our footprints, the creamy aqua-blue and green water and the evening shadows created by the sinking winter sun gives voice to the quiet joy I feel in such sundown walks.
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