Wave watching

The chill is almost past and the forecast for the weekend is good, with temperatures climbing on Sunday and Monday to unnecessary heights - must be a berg wind that will blow, bringing cooler weather again. The buddleia took a beating from the heavy rain, losing half its blossoms, but many buds are still to open, and the jasmine which trails up the walls and over the old tree outside my window must surely look like snow when the thousands of buds open in the next week or two.

The lumpy sea (the way I have always described it, but I am assured only a custard can be lumpy) has evened out somewhat, and the fishing boats which ply to and fro from Hout Bay are no longer disappearing from sight in the troughs and lurching drunkenly over the peaks. I've been having some fun with the zoom lens and have captured way too many shots of the sea over the last few days - if they were still on celluloid film, I am sure three would have done the job. I have always loved watching a rough sea. It is similar to seeing flames from a fire constantly change shape as they escape from the burning log - I wonder what makes them flee? Are they seeking more oxygen to sustain their life as they reach outwards? What decides how long a flame is before it disappears into thin air?

Having wandered completely off the subject (and if anyone can supply the answers to those questions, please oblige), I will return to the sea. The constant change in the way the light reflects off the surface and the tumbling of snow-white surf ensures an eternal supply of images to feed the senses and delight the soul. But I have to say that I prefer to view it from the stable surface of dry land!