Two Sheets to the Wind

This was the treasure at the end of one of those long vineyard lanes.
The Ichabod Crane kind of pitted sandy pass with scrub oaks reaching across a gnarly canopy
to shut out the light and sinewy viney things grabbing onto your tires and threatening to crawl in an open window
should you be forced to slow down for any of the glacially deposited outcroppings of stone.

To emerge from that forest onto this promontory was magical.

Katie was soon scrambling out of her car seat and over the rocks to see down to the beach below.
Wind and clouds and ocean colliding in great bursts of fresh air.

We were voyeurs really. Sneaking a peak from someone else’s vanishing point.
A huge dark cloud parked in front of the sun for most of our brief visit.
When, for a moment it cleared, and the shadows stretched across the lawn…
Chris ran over to the porch and threw his sweatshirt on the chair.
“Now it’s a painting.”