Such an amazing amount of snow for the coastline. It usually doesn’t start to accumulate until 200 feet from the cliff and never more than an inch or two. Now here we are at 50 feet and buried in snow. I think there is nothing quite as lovely and peaceful as walking on the shoreline in winter. It is especially enjoyable and surreal in all this snow. I can see this easily becoming too much of a good thing so I’ll enjoy it for now and hope it isn’t a trend. We’ve been fortunate (so far) and haven’t lost power for more than a few hours at a time.
The garden has completely disappeared. I haven’t see another living soul walk down our beach road for weeks. Little Nemo desperately wants to go out and investigate this strange new landscape. Freya is hibernating. I’m either in the crow’s nest working or in the cave learning the piano on the new Christmas keyboard. C.P. McDill is learning to play the guitar. Perhaps we’ll be real musicians one day.
There are seals sunbathing on the big rocks at the point. I bare the cold (literally) and follow their lead whenever there’s a break in these cold snaps. Otherwise, it’s the tanning salon for me. I prefer the rocks and the sound of seagulls to the humming slab and Britney blasting overhead but I do need my UV fix or I become cranky and my skin itches.
There is a garden under there somewhere.
Nemo looks out.
C.P. McDill looks in.