On Friday morning the tops of the trees near us began tossing their heads to and fro. A trip to the water seemed like a good idea. Across the strait clouds and mist swirled around the mountains of the Olympic Peninsula.
At Clover Point waves splintered against the rocks with satisfying crashes then trickled back into the sea. The restless water surged this way, then that, never ceasing.
Great flocks of gulls wheeled overhead, or faced into the wind and barely moved, held aloft by the forces of air. Their thin screams were whisked into nothingness by the gusts.
The fluidity of flight - wings curving and tail feathers fanned. The wind tangled my hair and blew sea mist onto my face. Oh, but it was exhilarating. Autumn's wildness is catching - I longed to lift off and catch the wind like the gulls.
Linking to Mosaic Monday hosted by Judith of Lavender Cottage.