I had a good start to this morning. I've occuppied my mom's house in Noordhoek as she's away for a month or so. The bad news is taken her good camera with her, so photos of this time period will be a bit min.
Anyway... I found myself running down the beach this early cold morning to favourite little beachy in the middle of a long stretch of sand. It's a wave that typically works in summer with the prevailing South Easters. Usually when we're down there it's a high sun in a cloudless sky. The beach is sugar white...white sugar white and the water is glacial blue.
This morning was different and the wave was working in a whole new light - or lights. It was changing constantly as clouds low and high charged over the peninsula, blocking the sun, offering diffuse light, or glare. Every time you looked a new direction it was different. You'd gaze back to shore to get your bearings against backlit dunes and an incoming squall, and then turn to see olive lines approaching against the gun metal sky. By the time you turned to stroke in, the sun was gone leaving everything leaden in a dull shaded world. By the time you kicked out, it was full sun again and the sea wore her emerald jewels and mountains glistened in the wet.
That and every combination of it, just rolling constantly. Like being in the viewfinder of God's kaleidoscope.
My only regret is not having a camera with me. That, and not making it clean out of that barrel.
Anyway... I found myself running down the beach this early cold morning to favourite little beachy in the middle of a long stretch of sand. It's a wave that typically works in summer with the prevailing South Easters. Usually when we're down there it's a high sun in a cloudless sky. The beach is sugar white...white sugar white and the water is glacial blue.
This morning was different and the wave was working in a whole new light - or lights. It was changing constantly as clouds low and high charged over the peninsula, blocking the sun, offering diffuse light, or glare. Every time you looked a new direction it was different. You'd gaze back to shore to get your bearings against backlit dunes and an incoming squall, and then turn to see olive lines approaching against the gun metal sky. By the time you turned to stroke in, the sun was gone leaving everything leaden in a dull shaded world. By the time you kicked out, it was full sun again and the sea wore her emerald jewels and mountains glistened in the wet.
That and every combination of it, just rolling constantly. Like being in the viewfinder of God's kaleidoscope.
My only regret is not having a camera with me. That, and not making it clean out of that barrel.
Not pictured: God, or his kaleidoscope.
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