Sand - Sea - Sky
- Feb 12
- 2 min read
Updated: Mar 11
I always wanted to live somewhere where the sea crashes against the rocks in great, thundering waves.Well, now I do live by the sea. There are no rocks here but dunes. And I never would have thought that wind and sand could awaken such deep, almost elemental survival instincts in a person.
I grew up far from the sea, in a landscape that felt stable and grounded. Here, nothing feels completely still. The wind is always present, shaping the land grain by grain, carrying the sand across the beach and over the dunes. Walking into it sometimes feels less like a walk and more like negotiating with the elements.
The dunes themselves create a surprisingly complex world. From a distance the coast seems almost minimal: long lines of sand, a pale horizon, the grey water of the Irish Sea. But once you step into the dunes, the landscape becomes layered and full of hidden spaces. There are valleys where the wind softens and grasses grow thick, and there are places where forests seem half buried by drifting sand. Some of the trees grow twisted and bent, their trunks curved and their branches leaning sideways, shaped by years of relentless wind.
What fascinates me most is how simple the landscape appears at first glance. It feels reduced to only a few levels, almost like a painting limited to two or three colors: sand, sea, and sky. Yet the longer you stay, the more shades you begin to see. The sand shifts from pale beige to deep copper when wet. The sea turns from steel grey to deep blue to green depending on the light. The drama here is quieter, but somehow just as powerful. And in the strange feeling that this wide, cold sea, so different from the landscapes I grew up with, can still begin to feel like home.
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