Tall grass protrudes from the dunes, their long slender leaves bending down, touching the sand that has collected beneath them. The sand is the perfect canvas. Encouraged by the wind, the leaves stretch as far as they can be blown while their roots keep them anchored in place. They stroke the sand, drawing half circles. As the wind subsides, the blades rest, some still touching the sand. Wind continues to gently move them but only enough for the blades to twist in place, creating hatch marks and scumbled lines along the sweeping curved strokes made prior.
Dried and bronzed, fallen leaves that have dropped from trees make their own etchings. Their stems carve steady paths in the sand while their pointed papery edges contribute unpredictable lines and stippling. A smooth, flat rock inches out of its original position in the sand with the help of a gust of wind. The resulting small concave it leaves behind is a dollop of shadow.
Where sand alone spreads across the beach, wind works away at designing a series of shallow wavy ridges. In some areas, this uninterrupted pattern is accented with tracks curtesy of the dunes’ animal inhabitants. Long trails of hoofprints stretch across the beach. Tiny tracks made by tiny paws embellish the edges of the grass. Some are fresh, their outlines neat and pronounced. The fainter ones, whose shapes have been blotted into mere impressions with the wind, are older.
The grass, the rock, and all of the artists residing in the dunes make additions, and change their minds, and start over, creating spontaneous and fleeting works of art. Walking in the dunes is stepping into their studio and watching the artists at work. It is here where we can watch grass draw.