Yesterday I headed over to the sea after work. It was a windy day, cold. But not miserable. There were great, tall clouds in the sky and the sun was peeking out between them. I felt comforted by the cold wind buffeting me, and as I drew closer to the beach the smell of sea air was nostalgic. It made me miss living next to the Arctic Ocean last year.
I think that if I move away from the sea I will always miss it. Be called back to it. Yearn for the freedom its coasts promise to wandering souls.
These birds were flying above me. At first I felt sorry for them as they battled the gales. But I quickly realized they were playing in the wind. Some would allow themselves to be pushed very quickly westward with the blast of North Sea air, while others dove and soared and flew into the wind, allowing it to keep them on the edge of the beach, between the earth and water.
The birds were playing, joyful in their own unique seagull way.
I don’t know why, but it seemed very poetic. (Something about learning to play with, rather than run from, hardship).
Here is a quick video that I shot of them playing in the wind. Just a note: the sound of the wind that my cellphone camera picked up is quite awful, so I recommend turning the volume down while watching the video.