I tend to feel spring is starting to spring when I first see a sweet little snowdrop poking through the cold ground. I haven’t seen any yet, although daffodils are beginning to brave the crazy weather.
There has been swell for the past few days. It got big yesterday, heavy and mesmerising. When I go for a walk with those close to me they will often sail on oblivious, still talking, while I have stopped in my tracks to watch another lip feather. There were some so perfect waves yesterday and today.
Too big for me. I used to surf that kind of size, when I was surfing every day of my life (this in Cornwall and Oz, where you can do that). I used to be lean and fit and confident (well, with surfing anyway). I am inching my way back to lean and fit, and with it and the awesome Pop Up Prog, I will be attacking surfing again this year.
Hopefully the waves will calm down just a bit over the next few days, it’s hard to tell with the winds all over the place and how much the tide affects these breaks. Gotta keep a close eye on it. I want small and perfectly clean, and empty. Not much to ask!? Even in lockdown there are plenty of super-keen surfers close enough to walk (or drive a few miles, and I do not blame them). There were seven in the other day at my local…seven… Now I’ve surfed Duranbah with Occy and literally a thousand surfers, but again it’s something I avoid these days. (All right, he was there, but I wasn’t surfing with him…) And seven on a kinda crappy day in winter – nah. Especially when they all surf way better than me.
Imbolc is my favourite festival, although Hallowe’en comes close. Spring returning, water flowing everywhere, Brighid’s spirit unfurling. February is Making Month for me, although I still have much to do on the website.
