Summertime at Washaway, and the livin’ is easy.

Dave and Roberta, happily squatter-free at last.

Fish are jumping

and the cotton is high.

This is as good as it gets here, and yet a nip of ominous foreboding is in the air. You can hear it in the trees, the creak and rustle. See it in the sideways golden light. You know you are kidding yourself when you use the lawnmower as a raking tool. Something wicked this way comes. It’s fall!

Someone is dumping a whole lot of tires on the beach. Big truck tires tied with rope to the bank. Erosion control?

Art installation?

There was a dead seal in the water that was bigger than me. At these times I wonder if there might be a connection between all the garbage we put in the water and the death of the sea creatures and I want to lie down on the beach and scream. I need some of that Kool-Aid, tea, how you say?

Fur is in!

Imagine my satisfaction to learn that two of the New York Times’ “Five Fall Must-Haves”, corduroys and turtlenecks, are already part of my regular uniform! All I need now is a mod ’60’s-style dress inspired by a parachute, black stilletto heels with a gold ring on them, and some fur.


About washybeach

Washaway Beach This Week is a blog by photojournalist Erika Langley. See more work at
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