It’s mid-July, Sunny out, a bit windy. I’m sinking in mud up to my ankles. The texture of it is beginning to gross me out after a couple of hours of walking barefoot on the beach. I know I’ll miss it as soon as I get to the shore – the rocks and shells will immediately press into my skin and make the rest of the walk back painful and slow, but I won’t put my shoes back on for fear of staining them. Every year we come here we admit we should invest in some water shoes. Every year we don’t.