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.

A February Beach Day

Hi! February already!? What happened to January, it just flew by. Yesterday was warm and sunny, like an early May day.
The sky was the softest robin's egg blue.

I do love an empty beach, don't you. The snow has melted enough that we can go to the beach, come on!

Here you can see how high the waves of the Big Snow came up and over the outer dunes!

After a snow the sand can be unstable. A few of my longtime readers may recall my getting stuck in quicksand! It has happened to me twice over the years.

The black tide line shows how high to waves came last week. This is black garnet and minerals, haevy sand, that had stuck to the now melted snow. Usually the lighter white sand is on top.

But by Sunday I decided things were safe and the kids beat me down to the shoreline.

Of course they found ALL the good treasures.

A c. 1950s Coke bottle, perfect condition, lovely sand glass wear. And money!

I try to walk every day, in  addition to Mo's three walks. There's some interesting large driftwood, but one man was gathering all the wood and guarding it jealously. He was filling those giant yellow IKEA bags they give out.

Still quite a bit of snow here on the open beach.

Dusk comes early still.

But not as early was in mid-December. Sunset is now at 5.15, not 3.45. Much better.

I had to get the deck chairs out for Mo.

He enjoys his midday sun and chew toy/ treat and he has been unhappy that he couldn't get out. I sat with him for a half hour, sewing on Pokeberry, before retreating to the dining room table. I love my new crafting space, but it has no view, so when I do handwork, wanting bright daylight, I am still drawn to ''my place" where I have sat and sewed for so many years.

Today is warm still but misty and rainy, like an October day. It feels like a day for going antiquing on the Cape or in Vermont, not like a February day at all.

What do you think? Early spring or six more weeks of winter?

love

lizzy

gone to the beach