SandcastlesSaturday, September 19, 2015
I will always remember the day as a wee Wills Kid that I was walking along some beach with my dad, and we came upon a man who was patiently building the most BEAUTIFUL sandcastle I had ever seen.
He didn't have a bright yellow shovel, or a pail either.
He just had a hole, dug in the sand close enough to the water to collect the occasional wave, and not so close that a wave would undo his last 3 minutes of genius. Risky business, this style of architecture.
His castle looked like sugar.
Like a Cambodian jungle artifact.
Like the headdress for the most glamourous of Hindu goddesses.
Like a pile of weird sausages.
I loved it so much, his drip castle. He showed me how to do it.
And ever since then, whenever I find myself on a sandy beach walk, I'll stop-drop-and-drip. Sometimes I might quickly hijack someone else's left-overs (an exquisite corpse), and sometimes, if I'm by myself and there's no one around, I'll start from scratch, breathing in the sea air, and listening to the applause of the waves.