Today was a particularly heavily overcast day, and slightly colder than the forecast weather. The wind picked up a little towards the evening too. My promise to myself is a walk every day, so despite the bleak(ish) circumstances, we got to the beach. The tide had just turned from its high. The sand was wet. There were a few dozen Scouts & Guides kids with their Scoutmaster building sandcastles and digging trenches. A couple were walking their dog – or perhaps it was the other way round? The dog was fetching the ball that its master threw every 30 seconds or so, leaving it near his feet and running away again. A woman just ahead of us was drowning in her music/podcast, earphones plugged in. My wife was describing her day to me.
Mid-her-sentence, I noticed how the waves were hitting the shore in a pattern I hadn’t seen before. I stopped, pulled out my phone, knowing well that my camera skills would not capture what my eyes were perceiving and took a couple of photos nonetheless, while my wife walked on. I turned back, at there it was, that incredible smorgasbord of color, a painting unravelling in the sky, the perfect moment/ angle/ light. More photos, none doing the scene I was witnessing any justice.
As I put the phone away, the thought that stuck me was how many such glorious sights I might have missed, metaphorically and literally, for want of a mere stop to look back.