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Roxanne, “The Bubble Lady,”from Brick, NJ,  saves the day. None of the kids are hers. She loves entertaining the children.
By Lee Morgan, Blogfinger staff. ©. 2015.

By Paul Goldfinger, Editor @Blogfinger.net

It was Sunday at dusk, and the kids were having a great time chasing after giant bubbles. The boys and girls were down on the beach, leaping into the air to catch the multicolored blobs of air filled suds.

Ocean Grove Beach. June 28, 2015. ©  click to enlarge  Paul Goldfinger photo. ©  Click photos to enlarge.

Paul Goldfinger photo. Blogfinger.net ©

Blogfinger.net ©

One character was throwing her shoe at them as if she were going for clay ducks. A father, about 6’2″ was holding a tiny infant girl, and every time a big bubble floated by, he raised her over his head so that she could reach up with her tiny hand. Everybody around the flying bubbles were smiling or laughing.

Up on the pier, Roxanne, the Bubble Lady was using a technique that involved two sticks and some rope.   She was instructing a man who was fascinated as to her method which was successful with each pass.

LAWRENCE WELK:  “Bubbles in the Wine”

I was there waiting for dark , hoping to get a shot for Charle’s Pierre’s poem which is about the surf and the jetties at night.  Those large bubbles reflected multicolored light, and  it was fun.

Then it got dark.  I walked down to the water’s edge.  The surf made  a soft murmuring sound punctuated by more roaring, as Charles Pierre describes in his poem. But then a wave rushed  in, and I couldn’t get out of the way.  I got wet from the knees down.  A guy on the pier found that amusing.  I just shrugged, and he grinned and shrugged back.  It was like a miniature vaudeville  shtick .

And then there was another roaring sound which came closer: