By the seaside

It's a long drive to work on Monday mornings. Perhaps not by American standards. But an hour and a quarter in the car gets one a lot of news radio.
It's not a bad way to start the day, though. Skimming along almost deserted country roads with a landscape still green in its winter coat. Bottle brush here and there, a flash of vivid red. Bright purple fields of Salvation Jane. The vineyards all lush in their spring growth.
About half way to town the traffic starts to materialise and once on the main south road it turns into the commuter syndrome and everything slows down. Not the pleasant part of the drive.
But it is a small price to pay for waking up with the sun on the sea.

We seemed to spend the weekend eating and foraging. Garage sales are always have a quaintly voyeuristic attraction - peeks into the flotsam of others' lives. And then there are the junk shops and weekend markets. We poked around them all.
It was not exactly a warm weekend, but when it rained, there were dazzling, perfect rainbows. Once a double rainbow reaching from our little island to the land.
In the night I woke to a tremendous wind, the fish flag tugging wildly at the flagpole. I thought this would be its final test. That fish has flown for years, growing more faded and tattered. And yet it hangs on. As it did on Saturday night.
And when I woke again, it was first light - a wonderful yellow sky.
And I curled up in my soft, white bed and allowed myself the luxury of a little more sleep while the sun rose.
When next I woke, the early morning walkers were out with their dogs or powerwalking to the store for newspapers.
I powerwalked to the kitchen and put on the coffee.
And I sat down with a view of the sea and my highlighter pen, and got back to the required reading for work. Work is never far away.

On Sunday my magnificent Hair Guru came down with his wife for a working lunch, so to speak. He did my hair while I gazed at the ever-changing hues of the sea. And then we had a very long Sunday lunch - spinach soup followed by Coorong Mullet followed by a massive cheese and fruit platter, all with an exquisite, light white wine.
And for afters, a ritual feeding of the seagulls and pelicans before a long walk to the screwpile jetty.