At the End of the Day

Ah, summer in Cape Breton. Sun and sand and the salty sea. Seaweed and Seagull Dreams. It is a precious season and all the more treasured because it is so vanishingly short. People soak up the sun, bob about in waves, and mess about with sand and stone. At the beach we can all be children again, building sand castles, scooping out moats, building teetering towers of stone.

At the end of each summer’s day, as the sun dips down towards the Highlands, people round up their children and pack up their beach gear and head off for supper, leaving the beach to the gulls and crows and the odd hanger on. (Yes, that would be me.) I like to stroll the beach at the end of the day as the setting sun turns the sea into rippling mother of pearl. On these strolls I see the things left behind by beachgoers.

Some leave nothing but footprints in the sand. Others leave their names or declarations of love in large loopy letters in the wet sand at the water’s edge. A few unenlightened souls leave their garbage behind for someone else to clean up. Some items are left behind by accident, the stray flip flop that fell off a toddler’s foot, the bright blue beach bucket, the misplaced sunglasses.

Some leave only footprints in the sand.

But some people leave behind beach creations, as delightful and ephemeral as summer itself. Beach art is not meant to last for generations or even days. It is, by its very nature, transient. And that is why it is so special. People at the beach, be they six or sixty, create for the pure joy of creating. It’s fun to shape damp sand with human hands, to pick out the perfect beach stone to add to a tower, to adorn a sandcastle with twigs and scraps of seaweed. The pleasure is in the making, not the keeping. And at the end of the day the makers walk away, leaving their creations to be swept away by wind and tide. Beach art appears and then vanishes. The sand, the rocks, the twigs and seaweed remain, returning to their own random beauty.

These beach creations, from the elaborate to the humble, always make me smile. I’ve given some of them a longer life by capturing them with my camera and putting them in this photo blog. To the anonymous makers, my beach hat is off to you. If you see your own creation featured here, let me know in the comments below.

Coded message to the aliens?

Some beach creations are quite elaborate …

Just as sand castles are washed away by the cyclic tide, so summer is swept away by the cyclic journey of Earth around the sun. We recently swung from summer to autumn on the Fall Equinox. Now the days are getting shorter, the air and the ocean are cooling, the leaves are beginning to turn. Like sand castles and balanced stone towers, summer is a fleeting thing.

And so castles made of sand
     fall in the sea
           eventually 

            - Jimi Hendrix

Life too is a fleeting thing. Every living thing, from mayfly to towering white pine, human to seagull, moose to mollusc to moss, has its moment in the sun and then passes, returning to the elements. And just as with sand castles and summer, it is that very transience of life that makes it so very precious.

Sue McKay Miller
September 30, 2021

At the end of the day, the tide washes everything away – but we celebrate our moment in the sun.

7 thoughts on “At the End of the Day

  1. An exceptionally fine piece Sue. I wish that people beyond your blog readers were able to read the piece and see the photos as well. Poetic, whimsical, wise …

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  4. I tend to want to get away from people, and wonder why, why, why we feel we must alter everything that is there. Some few (and fewer of us, it seems) want to be humbled by the power and beauty of the natural…sounds, smells, and serendipitous compositions without the assistance or intrusion of our hand…to have some relief and rest, from the ever spreading hustle and bustle of our noisy, intrusive, and ubiquitous species so convinced of its superiority and of its right to obliterate anything in our way, be it landscape or animal.

    Some of us want to escape, feel dwarfed by the landscape, clear our heads, look for inspiration, put ourselves in context, and simply be, for a little while, part of nature without being reminded of who we are: a tiny thing under the stars that thinks it owns the place, and who believes it has the “right” to take it apart at the seams.

    It is great though, that you see the art in our play, and I thank you for sharing your perspective. If only our hand on permanent changes in the landscape were as ephemeral, whimsical, and impermanent as these beach creations. If only our lost items were also made of seaweed and driftwood, and we understood the need for the things we make to ultimately break down again into earth’s natural components. And if we could hold some places in as special a state as they intrinsically are and find them so worth revering that we could stay our ever active hands…and bulldozers…that we could see what those places intrinsically give us, I would be a much happier member of the species.

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    • I hear what you’re saying and feel the same way. I am lucky to be able to go into the woods and be alone among the trees and feel dwarfed by the living forest. Now all those beach creations are long gone, but it was lovely to see people, especially children, playing with sand, rocks,seaweed and driftwood instead of being on screens. I just posted a companion blog ‘Ma Nature’s Seaside Art Gallery’ which is all about the natural treasures at our local beach. Now that summer is gone, I can even be alone at the shore, and watch sea birds and waves and clouds, watch the tide ebb and flow and breathe.

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