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…

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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.

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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.

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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.

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It’s hard to believe that all of these stunning rocks are products of time and the force of nature.

Especially these last two.

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What do you think?