My columns tend to be about numbers and serious topics so I'd like to depart a little from that. I'd like to describe a day about just having a good time with your horse -- not thinking about placings, miles, AERC issues, or anything else that we ordinarily do.

Every time my horse and I visit the beach to ride -- it's different. In an earlier visit, with storms on the horizon coming and others just gone past, the tide was high and lashing at the dunes just a few short feet away. The sea was rough and riding was difficult. The strong wind spooked my horse and he danced away from the surging tide. There was no one on the remnants of the beach but us.

Yet a few days ago, on a beautiful fall day, the sea was an altogether different entity. The tide was so far out that a performance could have been held on the smooth, sandy beach with no one noticing my horse and me.

There were a few older fishermen with their multiple poles standing straight up out of the sand, all facing out to sea. The men were drinking, talking, and some just sitting looking out to sea with their own thoughts. A motorcyclist was sitting on the dunes well away from his cycle, gazing out to sea. We'd pass them all by with a slow single hand raised salute that was equally returned.

The beach homes were already shuttered for the winter, looking forlorn in the bright sun. The first winter storms have swept all the sand back to the sea -- sand brought by a caravan of trucks during the summer to build up the beachfront that protects these homes.

While we perceive the sea as unchanging, the place where it meets the shore isn't. I can see how much the beach moves by looking at the foundations rising out of the sand between the sea and us. These used to be beachside homes before the waves took the beach back to the sea. Now there's a new set of beach homes and perhaps in the future those will become just foundations too.

As we trot in the surf, the water splashes up and falls back in drops that flash like small diamonds in the bright sun. We pass crabs stranded high on the beach from the ebbing tide and I wonder if they will make it back to safety. My horse is surprised to see the remains of an old pickup rising out of the sand near the water, the top of the hood, the steering wheel, the headrests, and I wonder what happened too. Looking out to sea, the sun reflects off the water like a sheet of silver. Flocks of large seabirds take wing as we approach. Small sea birds skitter along the beach in front of me as if trying to lead me away from something.

On the other side, toward the dunes, I see our shadows pacing us on the sand. I can see how my horse moves and how his lips flop as he enjoys what we are doing together. I see his tracks as we return -- single-tracking and with two small scuff marks between as he does his daisy-clipping trot on the smooth flat beach.

On this quiet autumn day on the beach, my horse and I move in unison, leaving a few hoof prints that will be gone with the next tide. We enjoy the day, knowing that the next time we visit it will be different. We'll enjoy it then too -- whatever it is.