Running along the beach in the rain. Sinking our feet into fine, pale sand. Checking under stones for crabs. Exclaiming again, and again, and again about the colours, the smell, the sound, of the sea. Timing the waves to run around rocky outcrops. Building the biggest sandcastle ever. (Well, sort of,) Yelling out as massive rainbows span the sea.
We're finally unwinding.
The Christmas rush is passing us by and we're going at a slower, easier pace.
We're still enjoying Advent - each evening we light an advent candle in the evening, read some Christmas stories and then the kids get their chocolate from the Calendar. But there's nothing we need to be on time for. No urgent shopping we'll do. No events to go to. Just the beach.
We're in the midst of making a Beach Christmas tree from a gum branch painted gold. We've already checked out the local op-shops and returned with a Christmas haul of tinsel, baubles, Christmas hats and reindeer antlers. We're eating Christmas pudding for breakfast. (The safest time for me to indulge - with pregnancy reflux I'm too scared to eat anything so rich much later!)
I'm still planning more Christmas crafts, but slowly, slowly, slotted between long beach walks and cliff top explorations. We've gone up the Cowboys and Indian Way, and along the Bandicoot path. We've ducked to weave through the Fairy-path, the moss beneath the ti-trees lushly, and unseasonably, green with all the rain. We've run and danced and paddled along the back-beach.
We've seen rainbows and this morning we're checking out Pixie Caves for pirate treasure.
This year, we're taking Advent slowly, and each day is precious.