Picnic on cold sand

It's outrageous that I'd even consider posting on a day like today, which stands as a dull and scratched example of a day seemingly ruled by Murphy's Law. Plus, there's the whole tower of indignant fury situation leftover from last night. But then I think, why should I only post when I am filled with sunshine and flowers? I am rarely filled with sunshine and flowers, and neither is this city, and there may be a connection between the two.

I took these pics at the beach on a cold but sunny day as the light was entering that rosy zone photographers refer to as golden hour. Or maybe it's wannabe photographers who refer to it that way. I don't much like the term, but I love the light.

I have always liked beaches in winter, and Boywich and I used to go to summer-crowded places and enjoy the desolation of them in February. There's something magical about wearing a big turtleneck sweater on a beach. It's kind of like the allure of a fireplace, writ large and larger and largest. Wild and delicious. My favorite combo.

Anyway, this was a bike ride to the beach, and it would have been perfect had I dressed warmly enough. We were all thrown by the fact that it was nearly 70 degrees (F) in the city, and I wanted to travel light, so I underpacked. Oops. Frigid. I ran around to get warm, carrying the pocketcam in my pocket (natch), and took these.

I haven't been wowed by its low-light performance, but in light like this, the new pocketcam is a marvel.

It's a tiny little thing, even smaller than my last one - considerably smaller than my damn brick of a phone - but it has big eyes.

I love these. The rosy light, the textures, the sense of space spreading out before you. I wish I were someplace like that right now.