Today is officially the first day of winter. It was really drilled in to me when I woke up this morning to the sound of the rain bashing on my windows knocking to come in, and cars shooshing through newly born puddles. It’s starting to sound like monsoon season. But it’s not, because my nose was cold like a teeny puppy dogs.
The weather has been getting chillier, and boy have I been noticing it. But I have also noticed that even though I can’t sun myself in a bikini on the golden sand, I can still enjoy the beauty of the beach.
Currently, dipping my toes into the salty water at this time would make my foot digits flip the bird up at me (if they had individual middle fingers). But I can actually rug up like the amazing marshmallow woman and bumble along the shore. This is perfect for witnessing fiery orange sunset splashed skies, perching on gnarly drift logs, dodging incoming waves whilst squealing like a child, and throwing the occasional sideways evil glance at a stunned seagull.
During my daily allocated episode of ‘I look awesome when I run until I look down and see my stomach dancing out of time’, I am lucky enough to do this on or near the beach. My running shoes impart footprints on the eroding sands that narrate the story of my sweaty journey. I watch the kite surfers whip about in the waves and the surfers bob up and down in the tide. Sometimes I wish I could surf, because sitting out in water that would make your testicles take the elevator to your heart and knit themselves little scarves to keep warm, appears oddly meditative.
Every now and then the beach presents me with some cheerful gifts. This evening, there was a happy dog that came up to me to say hello. The other day, there were several shells and seaweed pieces that were strewn in the formation of smiley faces. And there is always a young tot who makes you secretly jealous by splashing about with most, if not all of their kit off.
When it’s dark outside and the lights have been switched off for the day, the waves continue to break and creep into the sand. I know, because I can hear them from my under the snugly covers of my comfy bed. I appreciate this hypnotic lullaby that the sea sings for me every night, and realise that the only constant is change but there are some things that you can always rely on to stay the same.