“The Seventh Wave….”


This morning Jackie drove us to Avon Beach at Mudeford and back.

Tossing up spray in their wake, the sage green waves

and the brisk winds offered a couple of surfers a splendid playground,

within sight of watchers on the rocky breakwater.

It was a day on which pre-school children wrapped up their grandparents well and took them for a bracing walk. One gleeful little girl enjoyed defeating the waves in their attempt to soak her. She was even more delighted when I displayed my water-filled shoes and socks and decidedly damp trouser legs. I had not been so nimble. My driver informed me that the seventh wave always ascends further up the shingle than the preceding six. I will try to remember that.

After lunch I deleted more images from iMac’s Photos

This evening we dined on Jackie’s splendid sausage casserole; creamy mashed potato; and crisp carrots, cauliflower, and runner beans. I finished the Paniza.





  1. Those photos really do convey the chill and winds of the day. The creamy mashed potatoes especially seem to me to be the perfect sequel to it–and dry clothing presumably!

  2. When I first saw your headline, I thought it was some kind of mystic message. I hope the children put bows on their grandparents after wrapping them up. The sausage casserole’s making my tummy growl…

  3. Your wave photos are a reminder that the big. big world is still just one world and your waves are just my waves only a bit before or after.

  4. waves recede –
    child’s laugh lifts
    grandfather’s heart
    wetting feet in memories.


  5. The little girl and her grandma make for a pretty pair. I am duly mystified by the secret of the seventh wave, except that I’d probably never know when to start counting. The ebullience of both surfer and the waves has been well captured.

    1. The seventh wave was something I was taught as a child, I suppose that you would have to wait for a big wave before counting, but does the big wave count as ‘One’ or do you start with the wave after the big wave? ! I have spent many childhood seaside visits counting waves and never really found an answer.

  6. Splendid photos of the beach and sea–and waves coming in countless numbers.
    I liked your comment about preschoolers wrapping up their grandparents and taking them for a walk, and I can imagine the glee with which the child viewed your wet clothing. I remember taking my younger daughter on walks–where she would delight in stomping into puddles.

  7. I remember reading Henri Charriere’s ‘Papillon’, where the convict planned an escape from an island prison ~ having spent days of observation, he relied on the seventh wave being large enough to carry him off the rocks and thence to freedom.

  8. I enjoyed this roaring and splashing post, Derrick! I have lived by a lake for almost my whole life so think this is meant to be ocean waves. . .
    We usually bounced up in Lake Erie and let the wave take us back to shore. . .
    The children and grandparents comment was so clever, Derrick. The child’s delight was what brought a big smile to my face. ?

  9. Jackie is very wise.

    Sadly this seems not to be a quality shared by all members of the household, with their wet socks. πŸ™‚

    Julia tells me that it is a universal truth that all men step in things, fall off things and generally never stop being five years old in these matters.

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