Something a little different

I wish I could adequately describe for you the pit of anxiety and anticipation that one feels as they crest the hill and look out on an angry ocean. You see the wave forming, you know it needs to break, but something holds it back. You notice your breath has caught and all you can hear is the thunderous roar of the ocean engulfing you. The wave builds, ever gliding forward, the pressure it building and finally, gloriously, it breaks. It wants to crest, it needs to crest, and at the last moment possible, when your anxiety has reached its apex, the wave curls angrily into itself, splatter-painting its foam onto the canvas of the weather worn rocks and breathes a sigh of relief. It knows its moment of powerful existence has passed and it silently pulls itself back out to the sea, joining with the other waves of memories past and waves yet to be.

I hope you don't mind, but my post is going to be rather different today. I'm going to post a piece I wrote today while at Davy's. As much as I would like to edit it, I am going to type it just the way it was written in the hopes that you will be able to feel it in its truest form.

The ocean shined with light and appeared more a blinding mirror than a living body of water. The wind patterns were clearly shown on the rippled surface of the water. As I look across the landscape, I see the ocean stretching far, broken by the distance mountains of Galway and islands looking like the memories of skipping stones skiding along the surface of the water. White cows lounge in the luscious green blanket keeping the shale of County Clare warm. One stands as it chews the rushes, its powerful tail flicking daintily back and forth with a swishing sound that I imagine to be just past the reach of my ears. A little past the cattle a black horse, perhaps a donkey, no a horse, runs in the wind, all four feet dancing across the waving stripes of browns and greens stretching into the perfectly idealic colors of Ireland. I look back towards the beach of Lahinch and the mist from the angry, white waves rises over the barriers and onto the town beyond. From a distance it seems as if nature has been defied and the rain is falling in reverse. Oh, what a sight! Wave after blue wave, delicately laced with a white foam, crashing onto the silent sands and greedily attempting to pull the grains out with it, back into the churning sea. All around me people twitter with anticipation and energy, which is only brought on by a good meal, engaging company, and the promise of a great day. But I sit quietly back, away in my own, fully gripped by untracked land and torrent waters that seem to be issuing a challenge, "Come Jessica. Come and embrace me."