Sand Beach Crevice

When descends on the Atlantic
      The gigantic
Storm-wind of the equinox,
Landward in his wrath he scourges
      The toiling surges,
Laden with seaweed from the rocks:

So when storms of wild emotion
      Strike the ocean
Of the poet's soul, erelong
From each cave and rocky fastness,
      In its vastness,
Floats some fragment of a song:


from Seaweed, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


Today felt like vacation, which technically speaking it was. Photography-wise there was so much going on I finally gave up.

After all the rain yesterday I figured things would be dramatic over at Sand Beach, and indeed they were. You could tell the high tide surge had come well up to the dunes, sweeping boulders all the way to the stairway leading down to the beach. Large breakers were rolling in, spreading out sheets of foam which blew across the sand and caught on clumps of seaweed scattered everywhere. It's been too long since I really attended to the tidepool life here, and looking over the incredible variety of seaweeds littered across the beach reminded me to put this higher up on my to-do list. I got the main photo by picking my way over some rocks on the west side and hiding out in a little sheltered crevice.

Then I went along down the road to Hunter's Beach, which unlike Sand Beach was not only rocky, but deserted. The waves pounding on the rocks were sending up some significant spray, accompanied by that pleasing booming noise that gives the whole experience a fireworks ambience. I dutifully clambered up closer so I could appreciate the full effect. 

All of this so far was rather noisy, so my next stop took me to Hunters Brook, where I wandered inland following the stream. The water was high, but perfectly clear, and you could see where it had overflowed its banks the day before. All sorts of debris was being swept along by the undercurrents, which was mesmerizing but hard to photograph. This is when I managed to put everything away and just concentrate on the moment. And snacks.

Even at home things seemed busy, as the marsh was full, with ducks floating around, plus a group of turkeys hanging about just outside. Two big toms were showing off (for each other, it seemed) right in the yard, and chasing the hens around. They are such odd looking birds and their loud gobbling outside the window will make you jump if you're not expecting it. 

All this, and pork chops in the slow cooker. And a good soccer game between Chelsea and Arsenal (being a neutral). Now for some Laphroaig.