Windy Day, Roaring Sea

For reasons I cannot decipher an uncommon sense of bien-être insinuated me upon awakening this morning. Granted I had had a good sleep for the statutory eight hours. The favourable development had begun overnight when I noticed I was able to stretch my limbs and sigh to the pleasure of relieving cracks in the process. When fulfilling my ablutions and preparing my breakfast I was able to stand more easily. It therefore mattered not that the air was cool or that the sky was clouded – I had every intention of enjoying my constitutional bicycle ride.

This moderate revolution in my accustomed state of being was first echoed in what appeared to be the arrival of spring on the island. The blossoms were brighter and colour of the leaves were noticeably greener. The sky cleared. The wind from the north held the same intensity but it promised a picturesque view of the sea which I resolved to visit.  In the meantime I answered the energy to cycle to the other end of the island approaching the bridge to Bradenton Beach.

Seaside on Windy Day

So enthused was I by the wind and the sun while bicycling that I was momentarily overtaken by a commercial instinct to buy a trinket – a wrist bracelet which captured the theme of the sand and the sea.  By chance I passed a surfing store at the northern end of the island.  It was however “Closed for the day, Our apologies for the inconvenience“, a good thing in retrospect. I already have more than enough bracelets of various descriptions – plastic, leather, sterling silver and gold. But the surge spoke to my visceral level.

I was pleased to get to the beach at last.  Already it was after 2:30 pm.  There was one other couple some distance away.  For the first half-hour only two other people passed along the shore. The grainy sand was blown into my face and hair. I propped myself upwards on my elbows to escape the sand; or I assembled both shoes together as a raised headrest.  The heat of the sun was wonderful and the crashing sea was musical.

The children playing on the beach and by the shore were gleefully screaming like seagulls. Their mother was strangely complacent about the approach of the youngest child to the crashing surf.  She obviously understood the limits.