I am at the beach this morning

I am the beach this morning. It is beautiful. The sea is right up, close and virtually level with the road. A small sparsely plant covered sand dune separating us.

With rain falling, the clouds are grey and are reflected in the ocean’s green grey colour. The greyness punctuated by the waves as they cap in a sudsy white.

The water ripples and creeps up.

In my car I am enclosed, cocooned and protected from the winter elements. Looking through the window, as I park by the sea, is a little like watching television – see it but not be part of it. But I d

on’t want to feel the chill bite of the wind, or the cold or wetness of the rain. Seeing and hearing is enough, for now.

There are some seagulls close by, a flock huddled together with wings ruffled by the wind. Occasionally the screech or ‘ark’ from a gull floats by. There is no absence of life out there. Not only seagulls

but also cyclists and walkers bearing the winter elements pass by. I enjoy watching them, especially the cyclists as

they burn energy pumping their leg muscles struggling against a strong wind. Yet I do admire their spirit, being out there.

I also enjoy sitting and watching a front come in from the ocean. This morning more than one squall blows by. The dark clouds and sea converging as a thick heavy rainfall always travelling, it appears, towards me. As it passes, the temperature drops, the sounds change and beyond the window, the vision is blurred. The wind blows strong enough to rock my car; I admire the cyclists more. However the squalls don’t last long and pass relatively quickly specially from the warm comfort inside the car.

The few trees I see, mostly some type of palm are bent with branches trailing before them; green flags in the wind. The way I feel this morning, the stillness and peace within me, I would like them to be prayer flags, praying for Beauty.

At times a break occurs amongst the clouds as they move and part revealing a

n azure sky. The sun shines brightly and reflects brilliantly off the white caps. The temperature in the car again rises. The wet tarmac of the road also reflects the sun, bright enough to squint and for me to don sunglasses.

A few of the seagulls (where did they go during the squall?) spread their wings and lift off with the wind, hover and glide, then return to ground again and re-huddle.

Sounds and people return. The morning passes and life happens.

I am at the beach this morning. It is beautiful.