There is a story in The Odyssey about the seductive song of the sirens. It is said that their music was so alluring that any sailors who heard it would not be able to resist it. I have my own siren call. One that is sometimes too loud and insistent to ignore.
The weather has changed almost overnight. Although the previous night’s storm had abated, it was still windy, and angry grey clouds hung in the sky when I made my way to one of our beaches last week. I felt my tension melting away as the surf pounded around me like the beating of a huge drum.
Autumn had finally arrived. I could smell it in the tangy air. I could taste it in the sea-spray that settled on my lips.If I was an artist, I would try to paint this scene – the frenzied waves, the scuttling clouds, the lacy froth forming on the golden sand. There is a drama to it that the calmness of summer can never impart.
For this is the sea of a thousand different faces. The one with the wind in its voice and the rain on its brow. This is the sea that I adore: turbulent, dangerous, moody, wild; its fury unleashed, its power uncontrolled. It is mesmerizingly beautiful; seductive, almost. Like the sirens of the ancient tales.
Location: Golden Bay, November 2013