The Calm

A new week, a new month, happy Monday! The phrase calm before the storm is oh so accurate here at the beach. The photos for our walk today were taken on a beautiful day right before this weekend's nor'easter arrived. Doesn't the photo below have a hint of summer? Wishful thinking maybe.

I am working on extending my walking distances, with the notion that maybe I can go to the flea this spring. [It maybe began yesterday, but it was very windy; I never even thought about going.]
Here are some walks with Mo:

And here is my walk to the beach the other day:

By mid-winter the beach is very monochrome--tan with a hint of beige.

Not a bird or a creature to be seen. Did they move inland to be safe from the storm? Or simply spooked by the giant noisy scary trucks?

Here are the deep ruts the huge machines create. Can you imagine being a tiny newborn plover chick, no bigger than a golf ball, trying to get to the water's edge. These deep furrows are mountains to them. They feed on tiny organisms on the tideline, within a day of hatching. Unlike some birds, plovers are not fed by their parents, though the mama plover carefully supervises their infant adventures.

Not to mention the erosion causing damage to the vulnerable winter beach.

Let's walk on....

Before the nor'easter, the previous Saturday, we had yet another big windstorm that got no publicity. The aftermath of high winds is the uncovering of beach treasure!

A large driftwood piece,  silvery smooth from years in the ocean.

Another log---are these woodpecker holes? Did this tree once shelter a nest in a faraway forest?

I found a few bits and pieces to carry home.

Pebbles, a big rusty nail. One smoothly rounded bit of brown amber beach glass. A strange disk.

What could this rusty piece be?

It is made of layers and has the tiny knobs distinctive of laminated coins. There is a layer of green oxidation, a thin leaf of copper once. Is it a coin? 

If it is a coin, it is very large! "Pieces of eight"/ ''doubloons'' thrill my beachcomber heart. Maybe it's an ancient silver dollar--though  not as ancient as this comparison coin from my stash. In 1890 silver dollars were just that, solid silver.

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I used a thin knife to separate the layers. The ''coin'' came apart like a downy-flake biscuit!

It's fun to imagine, however unlikely. "I always called them diamonds, though I knew they were only stones," as the old song goes.

I can't wait to see if the big storm brought me more treasures!

Here is Mo, alert and worried during the big storm.

then snuggled safe from the wind, with his best dolly.

He looks up, runs to doors and windows, trying to alert me to the intruding thing. Then he hides in my bed, exhausted.

love

lizzy 

gone to the beach...

PS this is Sunday night, as the storm was fading. Huge waves still, even today.

Imagine being out there on a ship, in the frigid black Atlantic.