The Heatwave

The heatwave continued relentlessly. It was every man to himself to devise the best way to stay cool. We had gone to the beach early that morning, much earlier in the day than we would have normally, in the faint hope that it would still be reasonably cool. Not so.

Walking along the gravel pathway, the only sounds came from sprinklers in the gardens of homes where the owners still cared about their lawns, such had been the duration of the heatwave. Above us, a bald eagle swooped over the beach in search of a meal, while two heron made their approach to the shoreline, landing in graceful unison.

And then we saw him, head down, draped in a wide-brimmed hat. He was digging furiously in the black sand. Two of his companions appeared disinterested in the digging. One played with a red plastic tugboat, dragging it enthusiastically through the sand as though it were fighting the waves in a ferocious storm. The other ran carefree through the waves as they faded on the beach, kite in hand. Such was the stillness of that hot sunny morning, the kite refused to cooperate, bouncing clumsily along the beach.

None of this detracted from the digging.

On closer inspection we could see that a city was under construction, the design of which had evidently undergone much thought and planning. This was not a crude collection of sandcastles. In the vision of its architect, it could have been Venice on the beach, complete with grand buildings interconnected with intricate waterways when the tide eventually came in.

While Dad worked busily on his city of sand, the children continued to play with their boat and kite, unaware of the urgency of the construction. The trio were oblivious to the heat. They had beaten it for now.