Today’s Daily Prompt is as follows:
Pick a random word and do Google image search on it. Check out the eleventh picture it brings up. Write about whatever that image brings to mind.
I asked my daughter’s boyfriend, Sam, to give me a word – well he was just sitting here watching TV so I thought I’d involve him – and he gave me the word “pristine”
This is the 11th picture on Google when I searched for it.
What a beautiful place this looks. Sun, sky, sea, sand and shade – a perfect spot for relaxing and just being. The thing that strikes me most about this picture that it isn’t pristine is it? The word “pristine” evokes an image of perfection, but this beach is pristine, not perfect. It should be perfect sand with no seaweed or driftwood, a cloudless sky, uniformity in the waves and the colour of the sea. This picture is far from perfect in that sense, but to me, it is a perfect image of somewhere to enjoy and to savour as nature intended.
This pristine looking beach is unspoiled by human waste and construction; it is untouched by vandals, litter louts and concrete monstrosities in the name of “progress”. It does have natural litter – the seaweed, the pebbles and shells, the dead branch in the foreground – but instead of detracting from its pristine-ness it only adds to the beaches natural beauty.
I could see myself in this picture with a group of family and friends. Maybe a driftwood fire just beyond the picture’s edge to the right, or a fire-pit slowly cooking some seafood wrapped in seaweed and buried in the sand. I can smell the saltiness of the smoke as the dried out driftwood crackles and sparks with flames. I can see the different colours within the flames as the minerals from the sea burn out of the wood. I can feel the warmth of the fire as the sun is setting and the breeze is gently caressing us as we sit and eat, chat, laugh and sing. Someone has brought a guitar and they are gently strumming a couple of chords, a bottle of beer set into the sand while they play. An array of larger stones is littered further up the beach where a couple of people are drying their feet after paddling at the water’s edge. A couple of fish are suspended over the fire, speared on sharpened sticks and flavoured with fresh air and sea salt.
When we go home later we will leave the beach as pristine as we found it. You’d never know we had been there.