Beachcombing in the snow is an adventure. Climbing down the rocky bluff to the Hulls Cove beach, I misjudged the depth of snow over a stone and tumbled awkwardly down the hill. Not quite head-over-heels, more of a shoulder-over-shoulder roll. A year ago, even with the snow cushioning the rocks, it would have been excruciatingly painful. Today I scooted down to terra firma on my bottom, looked around sheepishly to see if anyone on the road had seen me, then laughed and dusted myself off. I bumped my knee a little, but the sheer joy of being able to take a little tumble in stride again more than made up for looking like an idiot.
And I'm sure I did look like an idiot to someone, because Hulls Cove is right on the main road, and even at this time of year it gets plenty of traffic. This photo is of a more sheltered area where Duck Brook comes down and carves itself a channel. You can see the main road there in the background, where the bridge crosses the brook.
You can also see that it was gray and overcast, so the lighting is awful. None of my photos came out very well. (I was using a Panasonic Lumix, not the massive new Nikon. Thank goodness, because if Ginormica had landed on me when I rolled down the hill, one of us would have been badly injured!)
Do you have any tales of beachcombing adventure? Share them in the comments, please!