High Tide

Tonight, we went out on the beach. It was muggy, but cloudy, and there was a perfect breeze sweeping across my face. I approached the water, half expecting there to be traces of oil or goop washing up to the shore, but I saw none and decided to step in. Brian, LaDonna and I walked along the coast line, taking pictures and pointing out the crashing waves. The tide was high, and the clouds threatened rain.

When we walked a little further, Brian pointed out that the sand was two different colors. Where waves has washed up, a created line of shells, broken sand-dollars and seaweed sat along the shore. Everything between the line and the where the water began seemed tinted: a beige-brown color of sorts. On the other side, the sands were white- even the wet sand. He noted that the darkened sand were traces of oil and had heard that it just may be the case. Neither LaDonna, nor I had thought of that, but it seemed to make sense.

After some time, sitting, talking and laughing by the waves, the clouds in the distance got bigger and were moving fast. “That” threat to rain was now on its way. As we packed our things and headed for the car, I couldn't help but be totally captivated by the magnificent sky. It was as if the clouds were each forming their own identity. Each cloud was thick, dark and rolling, moving: it almost looked fake, as if HDR or 3g effects had been applied for the scene. It was a conducted performance that demanded an audience. And it was fascinating. I pulled out the video camera in hopes to catch some of the flashes of lighting but instead only got sporadic horizontal flashes on the screen each time a bolt in the distance hit. Nevertheless, one could tell that this thundering display would only last a short time as I could see clear skies in another direction. The wind from the coming storm moved the waves faster and more violently. I didn't want to take my eyes off of the power shown of nature in front of me.

But in the end, we made a dash for the car and took off, but not without a little comic relief. As I was leaving, I noticed that the local television station had brought their truck and were ready for action when destruction came. Those silly storm chasers. A small adventure to be sure.