At home, later, we go over our photos together, then I select some to post here. Some are from my camera, some from his.
I'm doing it differently today; I'm posting Laurie's selection from Wednesday's wade off Centennial Beach, all from his camera. He sees things I miss.
Water textures, cloud patterns. The city in the distance seems inconsequential.
Facing southwest; on the peninsula, the houses of Beach Grove, and Point Roberts beyond. And green, sparkly wavelets.
We arrived late; the tide was on its way in. We walked to the edge, then waded back over the same route, at times up to our knees; the water was racing in, pushing at our legs, carrying bits of seaweed and rolls of eelgrass. I collected seaweed and water for my critters. Laurie photographed the water.
Vegetation in motion. Ankle-deep.
Far away, so far I could barely see them, seagulls rested on a vanishing sandbar.
The days end earlier now; the sun was slipping down the sky, confusing the camera, making it see things in high contrast. Varying currents create patches of smooth or rippled water.
We debated that white spot in the sky. Moon? Airplane? Spot on the lens? Laurie likes it, anyhow.
The sun is the theme here, drawing mauve rays in the sky, reflected in water spots on the lens, glints off the tips of wavelets.
I never post photos of myself. That's partly because Laurie likes to take photos of me in ungainly positions. On my knees with my nose to the sand looking at worms, from the rear while I bend to check out a miniature crab, off-balance on the wet rocks ... (Why? I ask. He laughs.)
He relented, this time, caught me standing up, facing him. Here's a half-decent photo:
The red bag holds goodies for my hermits and crabs.
A Skywatch post.