Years ago I saw this painting at the MFA in Boston. They had a Winslow Homer collection there for a couple of months. I was mesmerized by it. It wasn't just that it looked like the rocks at Fogland Beach in Little Compton RI or rocks on the 12 mile drive (I've seen it called the 10 mile drive, but I grew up calling it 12) in Newport RI, nor was it only that there were 2 women dancing on a beautiful moonlit summer's night while a bunch of women sat on the rocks and stared out at the ocean, although that many women hanging out together and dancing in the moonlight in 1890 seemed way cool to me, it was the way Homer somehow made the moonlight look like it was actually sparkling off the water. It was a fabulous painting to my decidedly untrained eye and literally took my breath away. It also taught me that I needn't care that I knew jack shit about art or painting and it didn't matter how other people felt about the painting. All that is really important is how a piece of art speaks to you.
I grew up surrounded by ocean. I lived between Massachusetts' North shore with its amazing beaches, Cape Cod with its breathtaking sandy beaches that are a part of the National Seashore, and the rocky coastline of Newport, Tiverton, Little Compton etc. I was pretty lucky. I miss the ocean more than I can say.