I peer out of my tent, the world outside is just waking up, the sky a swirling array of colors, blue, red, pink, orange and purple. It is warm, even though it is only shy of 6am, but the wind is cool, so I grab a long sleeved shirt and step out into the cold, moist sand. The sand squishes underneath my toes and it feels wet and gritty in between them. The sand will be white hot in a few hours, when the sun takes its place high above us. All around the campsite small bushes reach up out of the sandy dunes and sprawl themselves out–their branches overlapping and intermingling. Wild hares and chipmunks dart between the bushes, taking refuge in their cool shadows and protecting coverage. I venture outside of the campsite, following the sandy path I’ve taken many times, towards the broken wooden walkway that marks the actual pathways that run along the island towards points of interest. The wood is ragged and splintered, it hurts my feet, and I walk carefully so to not lodge a shard of weathered wood into my foot. I walk up the large dune, following the wooden path, until I hit sand once again, and find myself staring out upon the ocean landscape before me. I take a seat near the top of the dune, sitting on the sand, staring out on the endless ocean that bounces playfully on the shore with the crack of each wave. The water is a clean, deep blue, the sun, seemingly rising out of the water in the distance, casts orange and yellow shadows on the surface. To my side I can see little green crabs darting cautiously out of sandy tunnels, scurrying sideways across the steep incline and then diving back into another. The sea birds play like children on vacation–running to the waters edge and then quickly retreating as the water rushes towards them. And in the near distance, I can make out a herd of wild ponies making their way down the beach, walking together, slowly, tranquilly–they look majestic against the scenic backdrop. I take it all in and think life couldn’t get any better, any beautifuler, any simpler.

I am not sure of a piece of literature that I really really enjoyed the descriptions in off hand–it’s hard being at school, where I have only a few books here and there to really look through some of my favorite pieces of work and come up with a particularly moving descriptive paragraph or so.