Wednesday, December 19, 2012


Wrapping up our daily walk on the beach yesterday, I looked out across the horizon and saw angry, black clouds approaching the shore.

"We're in for a big storm," I said.

Late at night the rains came, and the winds batted the trees to and fro. Snow was washed from the rooftops and walkways. At 4:30 a.m. I woke to the sound of something battering the house. I thought we were under attack. From what, out here in the middle of nowhere, I couldn't say, but it was pretty scary. After 20 minutes of speculating - each scenario worse than the previous - I woke Alan up to investigate.

The wind had picked up and mixed with rain, it was knocking clumps of snow from the tree branches high above. They were landing on our roof and on the deck, creating loud bangs and thumps as the wind knocked the remaining snow and ice from their boughs. Knowing we were safe, I fell back asleep as the storm raged on around us.

Some may call today an ugly, gray morning. For me, it's exactly why we came here. To watch the storms make landfall, churning the ocean outside to a great frothy mass of boiling ocean, plumes rising in the air as the waves collide with rocks, foam from the angry waves mixing with what is left of the snow on the shore. But we're snuggled safe and warm inside, cocooned in down blankets, a Christmas tree all lit up to my left. And a bowl of Scottish oatmeal  and English breakfast tea to keep us warm from the inside out. I can hear the wind howling through the trees, and the rain's melodic sounds against the windowpanes.

It's not ugly. It's beautiful.

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