A shallow fall and a slow thaw through the morning. The car consented to be scraped without undue fuss, and we ventured out.
Inland lay mostly black and white:
Outfacing, the sea red with clay.
I wimped out of walking. The air was raw.
I took the car to pick up a bag of coal and then on to stretch its legs. The roads were still dry but the sky was thickening steadily. Close observers will note that I clung to the car’s interior.
The land was bleached of its colour by the cold and darkened to dun by the flattened light.
“This season’s daffodil, she never hears …”
and it’s all been one too many even for the Christmas rose. As for the primroses, the images of their shrivelled and blighted flowers are just too sad.
Keeping water liquid for the birds required multiple visits with jugs of hot water. Seagulls came down in a mob on the breadcrumbs, and were so famished that they wouldn’t fly away until I was standing among them, able to physically touch them. Hitchcock, anyone?
The small garden birds did have time for a bite and a drink before dry hard snow began to sweep in, blown hissing down the road like sand, in vicious gusts. It was a relief to know all the nearestsanddearests were in their respective residences.
Currently working from my old laptop, as slow as treacle (and cold treacle at that). Buffeting and banging outside, and the sound of sleetiness; not sure what will be lying tomorrow, but it won’t be cosy.
Like everyone else, I had an eye to the weather, and came home ahead of anything serious. A few cold flurries were drawing screams of excitement from the local primary school as I passed; after several mild winters, some of these infants have not seen snow before.
Just checking that the sea was still in place …
Cars slipped in and out of the car park alongside me: locals consoling themselves with crepuscular rays.
The light in the sky was becoming gold, and the light on the ground was turning blue. Time to go home.
I rather like this as a title for a blog post (though not going to publish the post to which it belongs, and the title is not particularly funny without it). I wish it held the seed of a poem, but that is probably wishful thinking.
The cosmic omitted chicken post itself is quite dull. Instead I offer an image from today; the waves were best seen from indoors, while we absorbed wraps full of shredded duck (no relation).
Everything was wet and seeping… (Click thumbnail for the gallery)
It has finally come in useful.
The week’s events have been insufficiently minute to describe, so I went looking for some smaller ones. It’s not exactly the season for pond dipping and the water fleas aren’t as fat and frolicsome as summer ones, but still quite a good population. Looking for small dishes for the microscope platform, the egg poacher fell victim and was scissored into convenient modules. (Click a thumbnail for the gallery)
Once they had done their unwilling duty, I liberated the beasties back into their larger world.
First I unbuttoned the coat; next took off my gloves; then my hat; unwound the scarf; and eventually removed the coat altogether. Not a warm day, but benign with sun and stillness.
(Click a thumbnail for the gallery)
I seem to have put up a lot of wave photographs lately so here are a few more, with permission from the nearestanddearest with the good camera.
The waves were less extreme than Wednesday’s, but they came from the southwest while the wind was blowing from the northeast, which gave the white horses some very elegant manes. Click a photo for the larger images.
The storm came in overnight, so I headed for high tide in a bright aftermath.
The rollers were busy rearranging the shoreline
and nobody was fool enough to mess with the prom.
The waves were breaking on the sea wall (which in these photos is under all that white stuff).
I walked round and perched on a small concrete platform, which is a couple of feet higher than the lifeboat yard behind the second wall, and gives a good view of the action. This was fortunate, as suddenly the bay seemed to swell, and then reared up the wave of the morning. It ignored the storm beach, overtopped the sea wall, hurdled the promenade, burst violently over the second wall, and poured in cataracts over the cobbled yard where I had just been standing.