More notes from the beach, mostly for me.
In August, it is easy to forget that the symmetric beauty of the shells cast on the beach were once living critters. In January, though, this makes sense.
The distorted carcass of a gull rotting on the beach betrays its last flailing moments. Just a few yards away another gull drags its useless wing along the edge of the bay, unlikely to survive the next storm coming, picking at clumps of grass, nibbling on tiny crabs that fuel its last living hours.
The January sky is as blue as the sky gets around here--the mid-afternoon sun is higher than it was last week, but still too low to save this gull, this winter.
In the backyard, though, a few crocuses are already emerging from the ground, evidence of their faith that the sun is returning.
Photos by us, usual CC nonsense applies