Ripples in time

Up in the old stomping ground again, on G's beach.
My son was collecting tiny stones to make a model cairn, while I chilled out strolling along the sand. I have to confess that this is the work of my son, as my poor back wouldn't let me get down to take this. His young suppleness made me contemplate my aged-ness. (I know its not a word, but it explains how I felt.)(OLD!)