As some know we spend a fair bit of time near the wonderful old fashioned seaside resort of Southwold.
At this time of year it can be fairly empty and a little parky but sometimes, as this weekend
the skies can be a wonderful mix
like an spilt paint palette bleeding into each other.
Skies hereabouts are like fingerprints and DNA, each one unique. And, it often seems, in minutes the whole tone changes from the subtle glows of a dull umber to the fiery sheen of raspberry and orange.
The joy is enhanced by the roll of the sand dunes, the gulls on the harbour walls, the pier and the lighthouse and the beach huts,
still sharp coloured before the winter’s battering takes off the edge of this year’s paint job.
And, of course, while Dog chases imaginary balls,
the urge to make an angel in the sand can become overwhelming.