Today’s walk led me straight to Bean Point—and it wasn’t a coincidence.
The moment I saw the tropical deep-blue water cascading up toward the shore, shifting into that unmistakable aquamarine clarity, I knew exactly where I needed to be. The contrast between the water and the white sand was breathtaking. Every step felt intentional.
The wind had swept over the beach, softening the surface into tiny sculpted peaks, like dense icing sugar dusted across the sand. Walking through it felt almost unreal—light, quiet, and endlessly beautiful.
Bean Point is more than just scenery.
It’s a sanctuary—for turtles, for birds, and for moments of stillness. It encapsulates everything I love about this place: the movement of water, the rhythm of nature, and the sense that nothing here is rushed or overdone.
What isn’t here.
One of the things I cherish most about this beach is what isn’t here. There are no commercial buildings, no bathrooms or public facilities interrupting the shoreline. It remains pure and raw. Homes line the shore respectfully, but nothing touches the sand itself. The beach is allowed to be what it’s meant to be.
What a gift it is to live here.
These are the kinds of scenes I return to again and again — movement, reflection, quiet drama, and moments that feel small but somehow expansive at the same time. The beach shows me new combinations every day, even when the elements are familiar.
– Michelle
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