Ever since the warm month of march rolled out of the calendar, I've been obsessing about going to the beach.
Well honestly, I've been obsessing about going to the beach all year long, whether in warm weather or cool - it's just that the realization of summer heightens my urgency to go beach-ing.
The Hubby and I were fortunate enough to spend an overnight's stay at an acquaintance's private seaside sanctuary. I would have preferred for us to be alone, but this was a staff outing so we spent it with a few other church people. Anyway, it's still a blessing.
Beauty heals, I've been told.
The place was lovely. It had a mostly-white modern-zen thing going on.
The sand was even combed into gentle waves, zen-garden style.
To the infinity pool and beyond.
I love walking barefoot in the sand, right where the sea kisses the shore.
I found me some tiny shells for my own mini-zen-garden.
And I just love pink beach sunsets.
I've been wanting to sleep under the stars again - even if it meant waking up all damp with dew. It's no fun doing it in the city, because there are hardly any stars in the city sky. The sky at this beach wasn't as bright as I had hoped it would be, but it at least didn't have as many absentee stars as the city nights always do.
Orion was present; so were Canis Major, Canis Minor, Ursa Major, Leo, Virgo, Crater, Hydra, Cancer. Gemini's Castor and Pollux.
I was the last person to sleep because I was busy getting reacquainted with my old friends, the stars. I went to bed only because I got spooked that I was possibly the only soul awake at that beach that time.
I lay down and talked to God, and I expected Him to answer - and then I realized that I was right beneath a great big cross formed by the stars of the constellation Leo.
The Hubby woke me up sometime around 3am to tell me we ought to move inside because the sea-breeze was going down to freezing degrees. I opened my eyes to marvelous night-sky jewels -- Scorpius, Ophiuchus, Hercules, Serpens, Corona Borealis, Bootes, Coma Berenices. I even spotted the spectral Milky Way. Gemma, the yellow alpha star of Corona, was right on top of me. I didn't want to budge because it was just all too pretty.
I didn't wake up early enough to catch the sunrise.
But it's still a nice, clear morning by the sea.
Contact with beauty really does make life a bit more worthwhile.