One morning last month, we woke up with no plans on a Sunday except to putter around the house and get some things organized and try to finish settling in. After breakfast, Matt walked out onto the patio and declared it too gorgeous a day to spend doing absolutely nothing.
Thirty minutes later we were in the car on our way to the seashore. We had no idea, really, where we were going, what we’d do when we got there, or if we were even going to a place that was worth seeing, but off we went regardless.
We found ourselves almost two hours later on the coast of the North Sea in a little town called Hunstanton. And it was lovely.
As soon as we got out of the car and I could smell that salty air, I was glad we’d made the drive. The ocean is my happy place.
And while I love a tropical beach with white sands and turquoise waters, those aren’t the beaches I grew up with and they’re not the beaches that speak to my soul.
The beach we found was covered in huge, flat, almost geometric rocks that created hundreds of tidal pools full of tiny fish, crabs, and shells.
A beach filled with tidal pools is my favorite kind of beach.
The beach was bordered by striped cliffs on one side and a cute little boardwalk on the other.
We walked along the rocky beach, found sea shells and tiny crabs, ate fish and chips from a seaside stand followed by yummy ice creams, and reveled in the smell and sound and feel of the sea.
Days like that are such a surprising gift, when you go in search of something you didn’t even know you needed, and it just fills you right up.
The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears, or the sea. –Isak Dineson