A Middling Storm

Gray squall lines laden with water ripped off the tops of combers slam sideways across my camera. As I battle the vibrating air, skirling gusts rake patterns across the rain-shot creek. The Pacific, scourged with off-shore storms, growls forward tossing logs and rearranging sand.  At the peak of a 9.8 foot tide the beach is gone. There is the hiss of water, the rumble of water, the slap and pounding smack of sluicing water flooding all around me.

This evening the waters have receded and the beach is bathed in a silver sunset.