We’ve had some wild weather recently and I noticed that sometimes, the sound of the wind in the trees is like the sound of the surf on the beach.
Can’t say I’ve noticed the reverse.
Though when I’m at the beach, it’s usually warm and sunny, and I’m more focused on Clever Girl chasing sticks and rolling in seaweed. And of course, not stepping in doggie doo-doo.
Trips to the beach are not only a break from the usual routine, but also a fun adventure. Scrambling about over the rocks, running in and out of the surf trying not to get my dress wet, and drinking a thermos of hot coffee brought from home (because we tend to get up earlier to go the beach than we do to stay home).
And of course, when Clever Girl is fully worn out, there’s fish and chips for lunch before we come home.
Fish and chips never tastes as good at home as it does at the beach.
But when I hear the sound of surf through the wind in the trees, I’m usually at home.
Doing something ordinary and routine, like hanging out the washing, or battening down the hatches because a storm is coming.
Though sometimes I’m sitting on the deck, working, writing or reading.
At any rate, sometimes, the sound of the wind in the trees is enough to remind you of beach days gone by.
Especially when you’re lying in bed, drifting off to sleep.
