Rick’s birthday was on Sunday, and for his birthday he wanted to go to Coney Island. We’ve wanted to go since moving here two years ago but just never got there. We had heard that parts of it were going to be razed to make way for condominiums next year, so we felt we had to go before that happened. The weather forecast was for sun, sun, sun and low 80 degree temperatures.

We decided to take the train in to Penn Station. From there it was a short walk to the subway at 34th Street to catch the “Q” train to Coney Island. Most of our trip was subterranean, but we were treated for a short time above ground with a view of the Brooklyn Bridge (beautiful!). Many people wheeled on beach trolleys packed to the brim with umbrellas, chairs, coolers and everything needed for picnic on the beach. After about 45 minutes to an hour we arrived at our destination.

It was past lunchtime and we were hungry. We had held off eating lunch since we knew where we wanted to eat. As we exited the subway station we saw our restaurant across the street. Nathan’s. What would a visit to Coney Island be without eating a coney dog?

The queues were quite long and we waited in line for about fifteen minutes. We entertained ourselves reading the calorie count of all the items before we ordered. Really, some times you just don’t want or need to know, ya know what I’m saying here?  It didn’t change my mind though. Nope, not even for a split second. Calories be damned!

Make mine a chili cheese dog please ... and oh! ... can we share a small order of those deliciously thick crinkle-cut fries too?

With our appetites sated we headed out to explore. We knew exactly where we wanted to go next. The next photo is a clue. Can you guess?

We did lots of fun things this weekend, but the most relaxing thing we did was take the canoe out for a paddle. We stuck close to home at Green Turtle Pond. It was a beautiful morning—warm and sunny without being either too humid or too warm. The lake was calm and still. The only sound was the splash of our paddles as we made are way around the perimeter.

It’s a nice leisurely workout. Sometimes we just sit and float, watching the sun dance on the water.

The wooden hull of the canoe slips silently and effortlessly through the water. We always draw quite a bit of attention in our beautiful canoe. People going by in other canoes or boats always ask if we made it. We tell them, no, but a good friend did—aren’t we lucky to own such a thing of beauty?

Just as we rounded the corner at the end of our journey we heard a great deal of splashing going on. We decided to see just what was making so much noise.

It was a dog.

At first we couldn’t tell if he was chasing a ball that his owner was throwing out in the water or what. He was sure having fun diving and splashing.

It soon became obvious that he wasn’t chasing anything. He was entertaining himself by diving down and creating flumes of water that he then tried catching in his mouth.

It was the funniest thing we have ever seen. Every time he got out of the water his owner sent him back in to play some more. I could not resist taking photos.

There’s a dog in there somewhere!

Meet Tommy-Boy. His owner thinks he might be part pit bull and part lab. Definitely a water dog at heart.

And so ended another enjoyable paddle around our local pond.

Sitting on the beach we were a perfect captive audience for aerial display advertising. It gave us something to watch other than people and the waves. The small planes flew by slowly, pulling their fluttering ads behind them. This one was the only political one that I saw but it did hit home.

If someone hasn’t yet coined that particular phrase I will call it my own. Get me close to the beach and you’ll have difficulty dragging me away. I could wander for hours, head down, scanning for interesting bits that have washed ashore. Are there any career opportunities for beachcombers?

I like it best when the beach is deserted except for a few people out for their morning exercise. It’s quiet. The only sounds are the high-pitched cry of the gulls and the crash and boom of the waves as they come in, followed by their hissing retreat. So, every morning my feet propel me to the water’s edge. The sand is packed and wet here. My feet leave solid but squishy footprints and my big toe throws up a clump of sand that falls in front of me as I walk.

The sand is like a canvas that is continually in a state of flux. Every time a wave washes over it, objects on the canvas get deposited, rearranged, taken away, or erased. It’s fascinating to me and I never tire of it.  Each morning I am eager to see what the canvas of sand has “painted” for me. Let’s take a look. (Just for the record, everything is photographed the way I found it. No rearranging has been done.)

I call this painting “Three Organisms: Man: Bird: Jellyfish”

“CrabFest”

“Mussel Beach”

“Caught in the Tide Line”

“Jelly Jewel”

“Jelly Jewel Two”

“Hitching a Ride”

“Jelly-Belly”

“The Mermaid’s Necklace”

“Whorled Beauty”

As I stand at the water’s edge, the foam from the breaking wave laps at my ankles. I try to stand upright as the wave pulls back, sucking at me with all its might, trying to pull me into the ocean along with it. It seems to murmur softly, come on, join me in the deep blue sea. The water rushes backwards in a dizzying display, making me feel disoriented and off-kilter. My toes curl under in a desperate attempt to keep a foothold as the sand rushes out from underneath them. My feet sink lower into the sand as the wave retreats in defeat. Not this time old man Neptune—not this time.

I am not alone at the water’s edge. I have a few friends that like it here too.

I think I enjoyed the tiny sandpipers the most. They made me laugh. The constant scurry-hurry back and forth between waves in search of food seemed like a lot of effort for one small morsel. Can you see that it has something in its beak?

Here, look closer:

It’s hard for me to leave all the treasure I find behind. Here is what I took home with me. A shell that’s a bit battered but has a lovely patina to it; several small scallop shells; bits of shell that have been tumbled and polished like smooth stones; an intact cocina shell.

And last but not least, a beautiful wafer-thin piece of polished shell that just happened to have a hole in the right place to use it as a necklace.

Reminders all, of my morning strolls at the water’s edge.

What follows are some photos I took of things that took place in the surf.

This wave appears to have five heads.

Fishing was popular. I’m not quite sure what kind of fish they expected to catch. I should have asked them.

Surfing was another popular thing to do.

The ever watchful lifeguard crew.

This little sandpiper did not like the waves to catch him. When the wave went out he would scurry as fast as his little legs could carry him to the edge of the water and look for food, but when a wave came back in he’d scurry back up the beach. Most of the time he managed to outrun the wave, but sometimes he was caught off guard. Run, little sandpiper, run!