Tenby Point is but a modest township situated on the fringe of metropolitan Melbourne. Access to the beach lies discreetly beside the rear gate of a local residence, with space for merely two vehicles. The area is best approached during low tide, for the path leads across muddy flats rather than firm sand. The seabed itself is composed entirely of soft, viscous sludge—mud that I invariably carry into Joel’s car. For this reason, we seldom visit during summer. Instead, we favour the winter months, when the weather deters us from venturing far afield, and proximity becomes a comfort.
The aged pylons that rise solemnly from the tide are favoured subjects for photography. There is, I believe, a quiet significance to our collective urge to document them—perhaps a longing to preserve a vestige of a bygone era, or a reverence for the passage of time made manifest in timber and tide.
Presently, I am soon to commence another locum shift in regional Victoria—a favour rendered to a friend. Consequently, my blog may, on occasion, fall silent for a day or two, owing to the unpredictable demands of being on call at a country hospital. I only hope this venture does not once again lead me down the path of indulgence and weight gain, as such postings sometimes do.
Sony A7RV
FE 20-70mm f4 G
Linking Water H2O Thursday