We've been spending a lot of time walking on beaches. Happy is both drawn to the water and terrified of the water. She's like The Birdy, they both love to be just a little bit scared.
We have been walking in the wind and in the rain, in the mud -- ankle deep mud. We have come home wet and muddy, so muddy.
I've been doing laundry.
I read somewhere that writers shouldn't post sad things, that we are meant (according to this 'expert' in author branding) to keep the sad away from our websites and show only certain parts of ourselves.
I was never a good liar. So when I'm sad, I don't post. And I've been a bit sad.
Worse, I've been worrying. Japan! Bahrain! The earth cracking open along the seams! (But the expert says that worry isn't good, either.)
I try and try to think of something upbeat but it comes off sounding stunningly, hilariously fake.
So I'll post pictures instead. This is my favourite from yesterday. There is something about wind and waves that doesn't lend itself to being captured by an iPhone. It stubbornly refuses: the wind drops just as the phone clicks its shutter. The waves immediately shrink down to a normal size. Why is that, I wonder? Nothing is ever as extreme as it appears in real life, when you're right there, up close, getting whipped by the wind and the salt-spray of a ferociously angry sea.