For the world is awhirl with tempest and storm, and crashing, turbulent wildness.
Somewhere along the coast two little houses lie side by side, look there, do you see? They lie snug in the hollow, in the midst of the squall, where the mothers light fires and tend to their sickly babes,
and always, always keep on eye on that swell.
Yes, this time of year, from now until spring, we are obsessed with the sea, with it's height and breadth and depth, for the threat of a swell is a menace, you see, as we, and our neighbours, can attest. The great monstrous Swell that has been known to rage and heave itself up out of it's bed, rushing at these little houses in formidable waves.
So we put sandbags in place, and we wait. Mindful of just how small we are to the power of the sea.
So here we sit by our fires, these faithful households who endure such peril, and all for the love of living in this place of unequaled, immeasureable beauty!
And we raise a glass, or maybe a cup of tea, to the sea, with respect. For we are at your mercy. And as we lie in our cosy beds, and the freezing rain blows in, wrapped in dreams of tossing ships and stranded strangers, somewhere in the depths of our sleep we do have one ear open.
|Photo of me taken by Lisa.|
Our houses lie about one hundred meters behind where we stand...
For we are always, always keeping an eye...