I spent much of Monday on an English Seaside. The picture speaks for itself. Later, a friend found this poem by Robert Frost which I thought apropos to both the experience, and the act of jumping off the consumption train (this month’s blog theme) in favour of the art of contentment.
Why make so much of fragmentary blue
In here and there a bird, or butterfly,
Or flower, or wearing-stone, or open eye,
When heaven presents in sheets the solid hue?
Since earth is earth, perhaps, not heaven (as yet)—
Though some savants make earth include the sky;
And blue so far above us comes so high,
It only gives our wish for blue a whet.