Here is another older piece that I recently machine quilted. I love the colors and line work in this piece.
When my husband and I first began dating it was obvious that he loved the beach. So I warned him that I hated the beach. He laughed. I tried to convince him. I’m a redhead. I burn easy. I hate sand. I don’t like salt water. I’m afraid of swimming with fish. Truly, I hate the beach.
Where did my husband take me for our honeymoon? The Island of Greater Exuma, Bahamas. This little island literally had one road. The only thing to do was go to the beach or visit the Shark Lady. We did both. (My husband loved the Lonely Planet guide books. Back in the day, the Shark Lady was a highly recommended activity. Truth was, there were not many activities to choose from.) It honestly took several years for my husband to believe that I did indeed hate the beach.
Then we moved to New Zealand.
Our home in Brown’s Bay looked out over the Hauraki Gulf. The water was constantly changing—the colors, the motion, the mood. I watched the racing boats training for the America’s Cup, sailing classes all bobbing up and down in their little boats, cruise ships and freighters on their way to the Auckland Harbor. I loved looking out over the water.
Taking young kids to the beach was wonderful. There was so much for them to discover and explore. We never knew what we would find — shells, creatures, pretty stones and sea glass. Once we found an octopus sunning some of its tentacles on a rock shelf in a tidal pool. I have such cherished memories of my family playing in the waves and sand. I began to understand my husband’s love for the beach.
There is something special about the space where land and water meet. Breathing salty air is refreshing. The rhythmic sound of waves are soothing. I have made my peace with sand. My most patient husband now has a wife who loves the beach too.