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.
On the south side of Chicago, I walked across snow-covered sand on an icy lakeshore. The ice that had formed where water met beach lowly creaked as water moved underneath it. The winter day was cold, but, thankfully, there was a lack of wind whose harshness would have only been magnified by traveling across Lake Michigan.