I know we’re all dreaming of summer, of sultry days and bare feet and the irresistible siren call of the ice cream trucks… but there is something in me that loves a winter beach with its long deserted stretches and fierce water. The waves were rollicking and flinging up such spray that it was as though a mist was hanging over the water. Out there in the distance, the rest of Scituate looks like a distant oil painting or a half-remembered dream.
It’s lovely in the summertime… but altogether different.
Nice capture. When I lived up north, I always enjoyed the beach in the winter too. Only a few of us brave souls are willing to venture there in the cold. I always enjoyed the solitude, and the different appearance of the water.