I can almost taste the salt in the air, as the persistent wind blows the sand around. Along the fence, the little seeds have a chance to settle, and grasses grow in its shelter. Even though raised in Southern California, our vacations were usually in the mountains, not the beach. (Something about the sand getting tracked into the car…at least that’s what my little girl’s mind remembers.) There was one camping trip to an Oregon beach though. It still stands out as so different than the other camping trips. I just loved running down the sand dunes with my brother, and being surprised at how the sands overtook pine trees, and mounded up at the sea, only to be rearranged later, to a new location. Even as a young girl, my senses were impressed. I will never forget how it felt between my toes, warm in the sun, cool underneath, and how I felt slightly out of control joyously running down the dune. I’m so glad my parents chose at least one beachy experience for our memory banks.
This monogram was commissioned as a gift for the "Hills" who live in South Florida a short distance from the Atlantic. May their "beach" days be sweet as well!
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