I just got back from a few days on Fire Island (it’s a giant sandbar along the southern side of Long Island that forms the Great South Bay). The sun never came out and a cold east wind blew constantly for the whole three days, but this brought its own kind of wild and desolate beauty to the empty beaches. Who would have imagined that a pile of old dune fencing destined for the dump could be so beautiful?  They almost seem to flow like the waves that were crashing on the beach right behind me.

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