Its a windy day today and the temperature has plummeted keeping me inside with my books and computer. But as dog owners know you can only ignore their expected faces and thumping tails for so long. Pulling on my thickest Parka as the twilight settled we ventured out onto the wild and windy beach a few quick strides from home.
As the dogs ran around I hunkered down behind a large pandanus tree and watched the waves being whipped into a frenzy of white horses. The ocean was busy rearranging the sand into the patterns of a raked zen garden, patterning swirls around recently exposed rocky outcrops. On the grassy verge between sand and road someone had lit a bonfire then abandoned it and I moved towards its promise of warmth.
There is something primordial about a fire at night fall, it quietens the soul and refreshes the spirit. I sat in the lee of a small sand dune, warming my face and hands. The flames twisted and turned in the burning branches before escaping with a shower of red sparks across the wind whipped sand. Normally the beach front has a steady stream of people but tonight it was deserted. Just myself, a couple of small dogs, an ocean in turmoil, dark clouds scudding across a deepening sky, and an ancient row of creaking banksia trees protesting at the force of the wind. I let myself go … one with the steady roll of the surf.