The waves were crashing over the sea wall last week in a coastal town in MA the day after the storm we missed. From my car I could see them swelling towards the shore and I had to wonder how many pieces of glass were being tossed and thrown and if they were thrashing and fighting or riding the waves like glorious surfers?
There was no beach and I couldn’t hunt. But I could think and dream of hunting and what was happening under the surface. The glass, the gems and the bounty of the sea is coming. It’s a long way until spring is officially here but once Feb. arrives and the sun seems to shine longer and harder, I can feel it. Warm sun on the shoulder blades, flip flops on the feet and a walking willingness to hunt are growing in me.