So, What's A Little Sand In Your Teeth?

Man and beast alike battled gale-force winds, today at the beach. But it was ninety-one degrees, when we hit the sand, so we sucked it up - literally. At the precise moment I thought of my title for today's blog, Joe called over from his sand chair to say, "Just listen," with a teeth-grinding demo to follow. Ah, the unpleasant sound of tasteless grit... charming, I know... but hey, we were on the same page... unlike an equine couple we met. Yes...

It seems that a favorite young colt had eyes for a mare at least twice his size. The stallion in charge of this band seemed to allow his behavior, as Junior stalked and eventually tried to mount the Mrs. It must have been the heat and/or winds that kept tempers at bay. 
She was not interested in his amorous advances, but was kind in not belting him in the teeth with a mighty hoof.

 Whether a band of mustangs is large or small, it's always incredible to witness the protective tendencies of the chivalrous boys, as they hover over (top pic) or herd (below) their ladies. 

Eventually, the call of the wild warned us to leave the beach... by four, temps had dropped a whopping twenty degrees and funnel clouds were forming over the sea. By the time we plodded down Sand Way, it was raining. As I write, though, the sun is again shining, just in time for a sunset over the bay.