I’m honoured to be asked on board of Friendly Friday photo challenge as a substitute host for Snow whenever she is melting somewhere else, starting next Friday when I’ll be gathering your Friendly Friday links right here. But today Amanda, the other co-host, said ebb and flow.
As a non-English speaker, I’d never use these words together like that. I’d say low and high tide or something. Ebb and flow, so poetic. So is ebb low tide and flow high? Or vice versa?
I hail from the Adriatic area in the Mediterranean. This must be the sea with one of the smallest differences between ebb and flow. On seaside holidays we never knew whether the sea was high or low, except sometimes when the mussels attached to the pier above the surface were left wondering where the sea had gone to.
Only once it happened that a friend got his rucksack and clothes soaked through. We were swimming and the people next to our towels yelled: “Come back, the sea is coming!”
I’m always in awe when I read about places in the world with high tide warnings. Ahh, how exciting! What if you’re left stranded? Not nice!
Now my sea is the Tyrrhenian (that I’m still learning to spell). Corsica is just over there (but too far to be seen). Waves are bigger. Ours is a 12-km sandy beach next to the nature reserve with minimum facilities. Every time I visit (out of season, in the summer when crowds roll in I prefer to flee), the beach looks different: clean, full of stuff – wood, plastic, dead animals, half of its sand flooded, a wooden structure torn to pieces after this winter.
I don’t know about ebb and flow or which comes first but here is a compilation of seaside views from here, Tuscany, and there, Slovenia, and one from Croatia. They may look completely different in 100 years. Or much much sooner.
And don’t forget: next Friendly Friday we meet right here.