Taking the air

The sea was extraordinary this morning. The gentle off-shore breeze made tiny flicks on the surface of the water.  The tide was low, so we walked for a hundred yards before the sand sloped away. When finally I was submerged to my chin, the sea, with thousands of flicks, not big enough to make white horses, looked like the skin of a giant scaly animal, gently breathing.   I love that.  Face away from the land and watch the waves. A cormorant and a gull were mucking around much further out.  There's something about a cormorant that I think looks just like a pterodactyl. It's the angle of the wings, the ungainly elbows, or the length of its neck.  That shore-less view, with the sun just rising, might well have been the same for a million years.

The sea was noticeably powerful this morning. Determinedly cool, a confident off-shore wind and deep, chunky waves. The long, mostly windless summer had lulled us into forgetting to look out rather than in, and the sea seemed delighted to remind us to pay attention by delivering face-fulls of brine. Always remember who's boss. The sky's reflection was deep pewter,  mesmerising, and it was easy, even for me, to see that it foretold a change in the weather. A flock of gulls was playing nearby; dipping and diving, bobbing about, lazily waiting for the fishing boat tide. You can see a single gull in the photo here, there are quite a few on the video.