Well the farmer or rancher doesn't have to get mad at us does he? Neat side-by-side.

Whoa.. Looks like "mother nature" is giving us some more land, building it up for us lol thanks for that.. Nice and interesting capture Marilyn..

I think she ignored the signs. Great captures!

Mom Nature doesn't need to read the signs. :D

yeah thats it. great!

Amazing!

Ooooooh...Do I know a lot about this. Is that your foot prints beyond the sign? Interesting capture. Aloha

its always going to be the winner

Love it. :-) I remember watching the beaches back home change shape and sand with each low tide. After a tropical storm or hurricane, everything looked different. Great reminder of who is more powerful...man or mother nature.

changes change a bit wonderful work warm hugs, Linda

that can not be. the earth do not move this fast. so say the experts hahhhahah this is super

This kind of stuff is really great. It's so real. I like signs before and after shots, because I think I'm an archivist who likes to record things. This picture really strikes a chord with me, kinda like wandering around Chicago in the 1980s and taking pictures and then going back to those spots in the 2000s and seeing what changed. It's amazing. Sometimes it's kind of sad, but at least here it's Mother Nature that changed things, so it's natural and easier to accept. Chicago just doesn't get that part of Mother Nature's drama. Unless you count snow and wind and snow and wind and wind, and after that, a bit more wind. This is really great.

And after all of Mother Nature's snowy and windy drama here in Chicago, more wind...(I just read Corey's comment and stole the computer while he went to refill his coffee mug. I'm spending the night at his place and letting him catch up on posting and viewing, but while he's re-caffinating, I'm hijacking the keyboard.) This is a wonderful shot, Marilyn. When I first peeked at it over Corey's shoulder, I thought you'd captured a sign that survived a lava flow or something. That is so Mother Nature, you know...She has this thing for change...I kinda like that. What's really neat about this picture comparison though is the fact that I can imagine you and Corey wandering around taking pictures of signs. There's just something about that kind of stuff that really makes sense. I think it's what Mark calls "text as art." There's a kind of inherent beauty in the utilitarian, especially when it's modified by...well...Mama Nature doing her thang. Great work...and I'll comment more later, I'm going to log out and give the computer back to Corey.

you don't get tides, you get cataclysms! Your shots of the ocean's tempestuous & capricious ways are all amazing, reminding us how powerful that water is. ("Here from this mountain shore...it is half the planet: this dome, this half-globe, this bulging Eyeball of water, arched over to Asia...this is the staring unsleeping Eye of the earth; and what it watches is not our wars..." Robinson Jeffers, The Eye, a poem that I made prose, for space...) What comes across in your many shots of your beloved ocean is not just it--in all its majestic fury--but you, that you love it so much, return to it like an all-seeing god who reminds you of the eternity inside you & gives you peace. And how much you love to give it to us, we landlocked blighters (lol) who know only ponds & lakes and have never seen your magisterial neighbor first hand. I just love what you do with the ocean, how you go back to it for solace & to be blasted open by it, refreshed & renewed; and I know, now when you're nurturing loss, that the ocean must be speaking volumes to you, and that--as you say--your beloved friend is in there, mingling with its waves to remind you she's not gone anywhere, just melded with the waters & winds. You give us glimpses into the unending, and I love it...