Crates and Barrels

 Saturday morning and a roiling sea again

White flecks flew past me - I thought they were birds at first but they turned out to be flecks of foam. The ocean's edge resembled a giant bubble bath. A very cold bubble bath.  There was a practical sandstorm blowing, stinging the backs of my legs.

And look what had blown onto the beach. Florida rule no 1456: secure your dustbin.

This proved to be more interesting. A crate, blown, not from someone's house but much more mysteriously..

from the darkest depths of Davy Jones' locker, encrusted with the trinkets of the deep. What a tale it could tell.

 By the airport, palm trees tossed their locks in the wind.

Some lost in the process

Further on, another souvenir. Glad I wasn't under that one.

The Likely Swamp suddenly looked much wider

In the afternoon, things were quieter

 Though the trees in town were still being mightily blown

Now, I have to say, it is actually cold. Near-frosty cold. But not as bad, of course as it is up north. Thank you everyone who's sent emails from England hoping we're not buried in a snowdrift. But funnily enough, even western New Yorkers have escaped the worst of the snow. They don't like to be linked with New York City. No fear.