After weeks of rain, Fam Fibro escaped to the beach yesterday. I love winter at the beach. When the sky is blue and the air is crisp, there’s no better place to be. No pressure to strip off and get wet. Just the opportunity to be.
We ate fish and chips with our feet dangling off the boardwalk. “I”m just going to go and run around a bit,” said Mr7, licking the last of the salt from his fingers. And he did. Literally, run around in circles, over and over.
We walked along the beach, right out to where the waves have pounded the rocks flat, cascading over them as though running down stairs. From a distance, it looks like a still, shining rockpool. It’s only when you get close that you can see the water is just centimetres deep, dressing the rocks like a sheet of salty icing.
Mr4 runs ahead, hovering closer and closer to the water, itching to get wet despite the brisk breeze. Mr7 stops at intervals to write ‘help!’ in the sand. Should I be worried?
Along the way, we talk about the whales we saw last time we came to this beach. Far out to sea, languidly migrating, breaching occasionally to let us know they were there. Mr4 and The Builder talk about a book they have been reading about whales.
“Do you remember what it’s called when they come up out of the water?” asks The Builder.
The air is heavy with expectation. Mr4 feels it. He wants to get it right. His nose wrinkles and his brow crinkles as the wheels turn round in his mind.
“Um…” he says.
“Do you remember?” The Builder prompts.
“Er… Fish Hopping?” Mr4 responds, half triumphant, half questioning.
I am still dissolving into random giggles at that answer, even 24 hours later.
[image: The Builder]
Growing up in coastal villages in England, I too love a winter beach. We would walk every weekend afternoon on a winter beach. Hopscotch in the sand,wrapped up in scarves and mittens.
Also love the winter beach very much – and I am feeling nostalgic for the time when our Mr 13 ran around on the beach without his nappy screaming with delighted abandon “naked, naked, naked!”
No better place to be than the beach in winter.
Fish hopping, isn’t that the Whale equivalent of leap frog???
How cute. I miss the sea.
The beach in winter is one of my favourite places to be.
Fish hopping is a classic.
I much prefer the beach in winter. I don’t have the skin for more than 9 minutes on the beach in summer! Fish Hopping, hey? So cute! Gill xo
Gotta treasure these little pearlers (and save them for the period when all we get is a grunt or a “fine”!)
Fish hopping…excellent! I did not shoot coffee out of my nose. But I came close. 😉
Oh me too Allison. In some ways the beach in Winter is my favourite time, as hardly anyone is there. I love the crispness and colours. The shades are more vibrant, as Summer often brings a heat haze with it, when Winter just brings a clear chill. Sounds like a beautiful day with the boys in your life. Mr4 always the cutie, so sweet.
I have only been to a beach twice in my whole life and I wish I would have thought to write “Help!” How funny. And you have to give that one to Mr4. Great attempt!
I thought only teenagers wrote ‘Help!’ when out on family excursions.
I love the beach in winter too. No sunscreen, just play time. Lovely post.