Sunday, August 15, 2010

Wild west coast

Walking in the storm with Barbara, who also loves wild weather. We are the only ones on the beach. The wind is fierce, the rain squalls frequent. Two black oyster catchers face the sea, patiently. Plump dotterels totter around in the wind. Cloud dissolves the hill tops.
Going out and meeting the weather when it turns its tail and dives back into winter: that's the only way. I am scoured out and refreshed. Back at the bach, roast veges, eaten by the fire, have never tasted so good.


6 comments:

Marilyn said...

Wonderful visuals - both from your photos and your words. I can totally relate to a walk on the wild west coast on a wild stimulating day. I love how Winter has said to Spring "What on a minute, I haven't finished yet." I am another lover of our wonderful west coast and I could think of nothing better than the walk you have just described - that and the warm welcoming home and meal.

Fire Byrd said...

I like your blog and your photos Juliet, I got here via Marilyn.
I too am a psychotherapist, a job I love.
If you would like a wider audience for your photos, check out the collective Marilyn and I are in called Beautiful World, cause you'd be very welcome to join.

juliet said...

Thanks Fire Byrd.

Joan said...

I can taste the salt in that wind. I grew up on the Manukau Peninsula so am a west coast person through and through. When it was windy and wild our mother used to send us out for a run on the beach. For her sanity probably. We would run into the wind and shout as loud as we could and the wind would whip our shouting away.
We'd come back all red cheeked, huffing and happy. The photo is wonderful.

juliet said...

What a wonderful story Joan. Yes, that's exactly the energy I was experiencing. The west coast brings out the wildness in me, and it obviously did for you too as children.

Anne Dean Ruffell said...

What a wonderful picture. It really captures the wildness of the west coast beaches and I would love to have been there. That's one of the beauties of having a bach - being in the right place at the right time. I can imagine the wonderful feeling of coming back to a warm and welcoming room with a fire. I remember days at Waiheke like that when we were children. The best time was once when Dad decided to do the meal and we came home to a huge feast which had all been cooked in one pan in the oven. I can taste it now!