The islands are periodically swept clean of history, but for the occasional bleached wreck, and the sedge behind them is the nursery of the oceans as well as the byways of migration.  Occasionally, it is good to escape the urban waterways, laden as they are with history, and get to the fresh salt air, the well scoured beaches and the fetid, bountiful, wetlands.

I endeavor to leave nothing but a few footprints soon to be removed by wind and tide. The goal is to not bring any more of the city there, though simply being there defeats that ideal.  These pictures are from New Jersey’s barrier islands and those on the ocean side of Virginia’s eastern shore.