New Year freshness

I'm not much of one for New Year's resolutions, they always seem to come with intimations of failure in their wake. However, I do try to keep up my resolve during the year to do things. One of those is to walk by the seaside reasonably regularly, for the good of my health and for the good of my inner self. Today our sea was really rather excitable, with the wind whistling so hard across the water that the sturdy railings were buzzing and vibrating in their housings. Great rafts of sea foam were collected, trembling and undulating on the shoreline or blowing across the promenade. 

Definitely no boats, or folk, on the water today

Dogs with their trusty walkers were at serious risk of losing their ears and the sunshine was sparkling in and out of the racing dark clouds.

The seagulls really seemed to be playing joyfully in the buffeting air

Walking in an easterly direction was aided by the following wind, but walking back to the car was very invigorating indeed. I arrived home windswept and freshened and wandered into the sitting room just in time to catch this spot of calmness as our resident woodpecker helped himself to a little lunch.

I expect he has tucked himself away somewhere safe now as the forecast rain is beginning to lash against the windowpanes.

Chilly evening

 It is getting harder to keep up the motivation to go out and get exercise with these frigid days of winter. Yesterday I was all but resigned that my walk was too much effort, especially as the snow began to drift down again, but I gave myself a Good Talking To. I had noticed that sunset and low tide would coincide, so despite gathering clouds I told myself I would regret it if I didn't pop down to the seaside just to see - after all I didn't have to get out of the car did I?

And, as the wise Sandra Brownlee says "you have to begin ... that's all you have to do" and once you've begun things flow from there, though I often forget this and get stuck in "not doing". So I hopped in the car, grateful for the heated steering wheel and seat, and drove the short way down to the seafront, snow hissing on the windscreen, to see what I could find.

There weren't many folk there, but the tide was low and the sun was glowing from behind the snow clouds, shining on the wet sand all the way round the bay to Eastbourne, with Beachy Head and the Downs, dusted with snow, in the distance

Folk were walking along the shoreline, dogs prancing and dancing on the sand

And the De La Warr Pavilion was looking rosy in the evening light.

Well worth the effort of just beginning; beauty to delight, the brisk evening air to refresh and a walk to invigorate and add to my step count for the day.

some wild swooshy'ness

It has been very wild and windy the past couple of days. We are lucky enough to be in the south where the rain has been dramatic, but not damaging and as we live on the top of a hill we are unlikely to be flooded, though the pond has been rather full.

Because we are all constrained by the current restrictions I have been making the most of our lovely seafront for my hour's walks. I was wildly proud of myself earlier this month when I managed three miles of brisk walking. No great shakes for my fitter friends, but it made me very happy. Most days though it is about a mile, and I have been interested by how many other folk have been down there too - I suspect fitness devices across the country have recorded far more steps than usual over the past year as we all get our allocated daily exercise.

Today and yesterday have been enlivened by Storm Christoph. Yesterday was particularly blustery, and as I was trying to capture the whooshy sea foam swirling at the shoreline, what should come past but this fine machine, known at home as a wokka wokka. They fly up the coast from Odiham and have been seen much more frequently along the shoreline than in past times. A rather nice rumour suggests that "they" have changed the pattern of their training sorties to cheer us up in these difficult times. A lovely thought, and perhaps it is true.

Today was less grey, but no less windy. With a low tide there was no foaming froth flying up the the promenade, but there were folk out enjoying themselves in the waves - how marvelous to be fit, strong and confident enough to trust yourself to the water and fly across it, skipping the peaks of the waves with your rainbow sail high in the air.

I was rather glad these clouds were far out to sea, and gave me time to scurry home before they dropped their water on us.

Time for some quiet stitching I think.

stitching cuneiform

Seems to lend itself to fly stitch. I find myself wanting to make the stitching as decorative as possible, along with representing the cuneiform; enjoying the patterns made by the cuneiform shapes. I allow myself to turn my fabric through 90 degrees, as the scribes might have turned their tablets, pressing stylus into clay.

I wonder about those Babylonian ladies, stitching mottos into their loved ones' garments: spells of protection, charms to ward off evil. Is this the stitch they might have used?

And because Rachel enjoyed my seaside, yesterday's walk gave me this

walking

We have been encouraged to take exercise throughout this pandemic, for the good of both physical and mental health. Since buying a fitness band when I was still in work, I have made a concerted effort to increase the number of steps I do each day, when not constrained by higher levels of pain or exhaustion than normal. My first target, back in around 2017, and still deskbound, was 2000 steps a day. It has built since then to the point where I regularly reach my 5000 a day target and occasionally go well beyond. That won't sound like much to anyone with any sensible level of fitness, but for me it is an achievement, and tells me that I can probably manage more as long as I keep pushing, remain patient and accept that sometimes I won't even mange half those 5000 steps in a day.

We are fortunate where we live to have the sea within walking distance, and also very benign suburban streets where one can be aware of birdsong, the wind shushing through a hedge, low raking sunlight illuminating the leaves, and all sorts of interesting gardens to peer at. 

sunny skies or windy, the sea is always good to watch

there are fairies and gnomes of you look closely, I wonder what it's like when the lights come on!

There are so many interesting things to see when you are looking.

With the good of my health in mind, and with the help of the fitness app, I can now set myself distance targets and have managed nearly two miles on two different days. A long walk for me, with the occasional stop for breath catching and general realignment of aching bones! 

evening's beauty

Just some pics from a walk down to the seaside this evening.

So lucky

If you go down to the sea today

you'll get jolly cold, but you might find

time

marked

in light

and space

through distance

by happenstance

walking along the littoral

I never tire of this space, it always gives me something

 a pebble, cradled in storm shattered wood

 reflections

  and ripples of light

Beachy Head, always there anchoring the horizon

 dogs frisking on the shoreline

 pale moon

netted by branches as I wend my way home

evening light

Work is just beginning to slow down a little and I am managing to get back to my "normal" hours. I'm also trying (for the umpteenth time) to walk down to the seaside at least every other day as the ceaseless rain is also beginning to slow and there is space in the day for walking. This view is my reward - well worth the effort.

When we moved here, just over three years ago, I couldn't walk down and back (only two miles) without stopping on the way up at least once to ease the pain in my legs and back, and catch my breath. Now I am glad to say there is no need to stop (sometimes) and the hurting is easing. This is not said to evoke sympathy - I've lived with chronic pain for most of my adult life, one way or another, and have no need (or desire) for sympathy - but it is good to know that even my poorly disciplined efforts to improve my fitness are bearing some fruit!

evening blues