All's quiet on the eastern front -- except for the wind

The last few days have been stormy -- using the term loosely.  A moderate amount of rain, a bit of snow that's melted away within hours in the near zero temperatures.  But wind!  Hard to believe the wind.  I notice it most at night when I'm trying to fall asleep.  From the crashing, banging and moaning, it sounds as though the roof is going to lift off.  This low pressure system has the wind blowing from the northeast, rather than the usual prevailing southwest, so the rain lashes against the windows of my bedroom and the wind siphons up the soffit vents, the house protesting all the way.  It's kind of hard to fall asleep.


I know a couple of people who've lost shingles, but so far when I've stepped out in the morning, everything here has been shipshape... as long as it's nailed down.  One day, the big green composting bin in the photo was upended despite the fact that it was half full of woodstove ash and wet kitchen refuse.  And here's where the shovels were flung, from just around the corner of the house where they normally reside.

No complaining here; the conditions have been ideal for working.  What better place to be than chained to a computer, because you're not missing much outside.  But after having been housebound since Thursday, this afternoon it was (long past) time for a walk -- and besides, the sun was trying to break through.  Hearing the roaring of the surf, I decided to check out Brown's Beach, the one that's close by.

Little big waves...  For the power of the wind and the force built up in the water, I was surprised at how small the waves seemed.  It puts those California surfing waves in perspective... you could surf on these ones, but it made me shiver just thinking about it.  The wind was so cold that I could only keep my gloves off for a few seconds at a time to take these pictures.  Huge amounts of spume had built up at the water line, great blobs of which would go scudding down the beach whenever there was a big gust.

I saw some birds I think were Common Eiders, two males and a female, riding the swells.  Hard to tell from a distance and the momentary sightings as they rose and fell.  Don't you just love it when a bird book says "breeding male unmistakable (Oct.-Jun.)"?  Unmistakable to whom?  Serious birders, I guess... and since I'm not certain of what I saw, that lets me out.  Am I the only one who feels inept when they put things that way?  Sheesh.

March 1st, yet it felt like almost spring.  The ice on the cliffs has mostly melted away, leaving ghostly remnants that reminded me of old bones.  I tried to capture the feeling in some not-quite-successful photos that even photoshopping couldn't rescue.  But I had fun computer-playing with them.  So much of what I see on these outings, I see as art... and maybe eventually I'll start painting.  In the meantime, I call this one Ghost Noise: