The cold wind–it rips right through several layers of clothing. The thing is to wear enough layers so that your own escaping warmth is slowed sufficiently to enable you to get done whatever is needed at the time, whether it is to shovel the snow that always collects in the driveway at night, replace the taillight that picked a day when the wind-chill was -30 to say “I’m done,” or even to just walk around in the outdoors to sort a few things out. Escape is always welcome.
The mid-morning sun does little to warm things up. It’s still too low to even let you talk about the length of the shadows it casts. Fortunately the wind is “out” so, at least here in Middle Cove, there’s some reprieve; a chance to just watch some of the daily rhythms.
Standing under the shelter of the ice-covered rock, watching the waves come and go the passage of time is deceptively hard to measure. Just the wind high overhead, whooshing through the spruce trees and the waves, rattling the rocks and me, watching the rising tide…longer than intended.
By the time I turned to move the run had risen past the hill. Finally, the sunlight starts to creep along the shore.
Soon, at least, you would be able to measure the shadows.
The winter light still plays tricks on the eyes. From even just a few metres away the smooth beach rocks seem to offer a relief from the difficult task of walking through the snow-covered rocks further up the shore.
Closer examination reveals a different truth. Ice-crusted beach rocks provide a walking surface that is truly alien. At first firm, but when only half your body weight lies on your leading foot the rocks separate and ooze apart. The foot settles a few centimeters. Always slippery; even though in a more-or-less foot shaped depression your boots still want to slide; you have to walk as if on wet ice, but wet ice that undulates with your weight. Every step as considered as ones you took back on the larger rocks.
Not an easy walk, for sure, but still, in its own unique way, comforting.
The wind will rise and fall, as will the tide. The waves will come and go sometimes, as is the case today, gently; often not. The shadows will lengthen and shorten. Even the winter’s cold, it too will go and come again.
And as for us who choose to dally here from time to time, we too have our own rhythms to attend to.