A rock and a hard place…
One of my favourite walks is not far from House – perhaps two or three kilometres. I get my husband to drop the dog and I off along the coast and I walk back along the shore, over white sand and rocks, past beach cottages locked up until the next long weekend or Christmas…
They are strange places, these holiday houses – one can almost see them slumbering, enjoying the peace and quiet. The coastal birds flit freely from shrub to shrub, the seabirds are untroubled by jet-skis and motor boats and the fish are actually able to bask in the shallows, drifting through wafts of seaweed.
And best of all for me, we meet no one and the dog can be lead-free for the whole walk back to our own place.
The coast is strewn with the honey-coloured sandstone for which it became famous in the 1800’s when a vast cliff of the rock was quarried to build the historic buildings in Melbourne and Hobart but the sand stone I love is that moulded and sculpted by the elements. It speaks of waves, of wind, of trickles of rain.
It’s hard to believe that all of these stunning rocks are products of time and the force of nature.
Especially these last two.
What do you think?