On a unexceptional coastal California day the Ocean causually flaunts its’ blue diamond brilliance. As the sun tires of it’s duties, the evening serves up a main course of heart stopping colors, blended and brilliant, beckoning locked gazes due West, hands outstretched and fingers pointing. But there is something to be said about a stormy, angry grey day.

Impervious and safe, piping hot tea shoots steam out of an army grade thermos. The furocious and seemingly furious Pacific Ocean orders white caps, and while beating each other for pride of placement the water blends into sky, skyline disappears into sea.

For all sensory appearances the roof will peel off at any moment, trees will take root inside the house, panes will shatter and the beast outside will mate with the calm contimplation inside.

It is a day for reflection, inner scrutiny with a dollop of forgiveness. It’s a day for feet up, afghan hugging shoulders like an old lover. It’s the type of day where a pronounced dichotomy presents itself – the desire to be one with the wind as it bolsters you up and tinges the ears and nose patchy red, or the lazy hankering for a hot toddy, tissues and a melancholy laced novel.

Slowly the corners pull up, the grey horizon lifts and lightens, the waves change direction. Blue creeps in between the cracks, the grey separates, ever so slowly, giving a peep show of a sultry sun dancing in naked light. The ocean gives a bored roar, and retreats to a calmer, peaceful disposition. Birds appear, testing the sanctity of flight.

Salt floats
Sand evolves
Seaweed slithersSunset

Advertisements