I walked around a cove today. Up on a ridge on a peninsula. A milky quartz cliff, covered with moss and pine needles. Forest and fallen trees. I walked in patches of sun and piney shade on a steep narrow path, some places icy, some places muddy. I looked down and noticed that if I slipped I would fall onto blades of rock and then into the water. I hoped that I wouldn't lose my car key if that happened. It didn't. I kept my footing. I marveled at the chunks of milky white quartz, veins through the rather regular grey rock. I felt the sun on my face, a warm 45 degrees, warm for December in Maine. I smelled salt and seaweed.
I saw small beaches, but it was mostly a cliff of rock down to jagged rocks and rafts of orange seaweed. There was a dark rock in the distance, too small to be an island. Just a long sliver of black rock above the sea. There was something on the rock, somethings, bigger than cormorants and seagulls. Seals? I climbed down closer to the water.
Seals. The rock was covered with seals. Too far for a good look, but I could see them curling up and back down. Lolling on the rock, sunbathing. I saw some plop into the water, and there they arced into the air and splashed back down into the cold water. Like dolphins. The water was a beautiful blue here, green there, almost tropical looking. But not tropical, as there was ice on the rocky cliffs and snow on the moss in the forest. All over the cove were flashes of light, where the sun caught the seals' noses when they bobbed up for air. A flash of light, then gone. Sometimes they jumped into the air first. Sometimes their dark wet backs arched into the water. I watched them for a long time, then climbed back up the steep cliff. Back over the milky quartz path and through the mossy forest. Back to the road and more adventures.