It’s overcast, but I think there will still be a nice view of the sunset from my backyard, which is currently the Gulf of Mexico. Life is tough sitting here barefoot on the cottage deck as I write about relaxing.
The beach appears from here to be nearly empty. The intermittent rain showers have kept beach-goers a little tentative. Now that evening is upon us, there won’t be much more activity, until the sunset. That’s when you pull up your chairs to the beach, sip a glass of wine, and get your camera or phone ready for nature’s spectacular climatic display.
It is very quiet except for the intermittent pitter-patter of sprinkles on the awning over my head. Then there is the neighbor’s dog, a sweet lonely sounding puppy. I wish I could recue him.
This place is such a contrast to where I really live, the land of the reluctant spring, but then we are pretty much at the other end of the country. There is stuff to be done at home.
Here it’s hard not to be mesmerized by the vastness of the ocean, the dive bombing seagulls, or the occasional dolphin or manatee. At the edge of the sea, the waves, the churning of the shells and the tingling sound they make as they roll back into surf will hypnotize you. It’s easy to stand or sit, look and listen, and feel like you are doing something when you are doing nothing at all.
Just as there is value in work and accomplishment, there is also value in doing nothing. It’s called rest and relaxation, and it is a beautiful thing.
I wrote this a few days ago when we were in Florida.