Winter storms

How easily we are fooled by a clear sky and sunshine! It is definitely winter now and we have to remember that extra jersey or jacket when venturing out for a walk along the seafront or coffee up the road. The air is icy as it sweeps in from the south Atlantic, and the weather forecasts (which are surely accurate in some part of the world, although not necessarily the desired location) are as frequently incorrect as correct. It really is best to just wait for the sun to come up, look at the weather vane on top of the lighthouse, and assess the surface of the sea for what lies ahead!
Recently we enjoyed the epitome of perfect Cape Town weather, and anyone visiting here would surely have been hard pressed to leave. Fortunately, bad weather intermittently spoils paradise, otherwise we would have a shoreline of apartment buildings similar to the Costa del Sol. We never know what winter will bring, and it has been some years since the Cape of Storms took a really bad knock. The odd thing about these storms is that they always seem to occur when the highest tide is in the early hours of the morning, and so we miss all the action and are left only to gasp at the destruction the next day. Two cold fronts have now passed that are reminiscent of what winter used to be in the Cape, except that the rain is heavier over a shorter period.
The sea lice that feed on the washed up kelp along the bay are our best indicator of what is to come, and way back in the 80s we had a hurricane-like gale that threw benches into trees, lifted the tarred path, swept away rocks and tore boats from their moorings, their smashed remains washing up on nearby Long Beach. The indicator of this violent storm was the mass exodus of the sea lice from the danger zone, as they crossed the roads and swarmed up walls of houses to escape the tide. There is nothing you can tell nature. 
Living only about 60 metres from the shoreline, I often wonder how long it will be before the sea laps at our walls. The tide has washed seaweed along the side road once before, many years ago, and the storm surge is held back by a low jumble of rocks, a hillock and a line of milkwoods. Yesterday we found two sea lice seeking refuge in the garage.
Only time will tell.