an atlantic day trip

After a  fairly quiet week of plugging away at my sketchbook embroidery...

coming along...polyester, cotton, and silk threads on paper...not knowing where this is going...

 

we ran away to Chester.

 

 

This post will be filled with some of the houses of Chester,

 a sheltered bay that is filled with many charming homes.

Note the interesting diamond patch of cedar "shakes" or shingles above the door.

 



a great old maple outside a great old home. Imagine the sun pouring into these wonderful windows.

 I'm a big fan of beautiful stonework. These simple steps are lined with wrought iron on both sides.

 

 

a lovely gate that leads through the hedges

 

Another shingled house with a super trellised entryway to the garden.

 

 





Another day with the tide out, we walked past people waiting for the ferry

 to take them to their various islands.





 This little house was a particular favourite of mine with its manicured facade, cobbled drive and wooden shuttered windows. I liked the yellowy front door too.

 

 





 A great old house trimmed in cream and burgundy, traced by the late afternoon sun with the shadow of its great old companion tree.

 

 

Eager to make it to a beach before we had to head home, Wally made an extra turn back  because he had seen these 2 giant bulls laying by a fence as we passed that he me to see. 

You wouldn't be believe how fast this young bull got to his feet as I got out of the car. It gave me pause.  I didn't want to have him test the electric fence for my sake, so I took a few shots while he eyed me, motionless. He did have beautiful eyes though.

 

Further down the road we stopped to eat a late lunch as we watched a woman throw a frisbee for her eager border collie to catch in mid air as her old terrier limped along behind. I didn't see the chihuahua for the first while, so small and camoflaged.



How interesting it is for this land lubber to walk along the edge of the sea at low tide. I didn't know how these sea plants could lodge themselves so firmly to a rock. It was impossible for me to wrest a beautiful mussel shell away from their clinging fingers.

The fascinating ribs of washboard in the sand that the waves had left

 



our collection of stones, shells and seaglass

 

 waves of whatever this sea plant is flowing like weird tresses of ogre's hair

 

 and the tide comes rolling back in

 

the ebb and flow

you don't think about the pull of the sun and the moon

til you witness the tides'

ebb and flow

and then you remember how so much in life

indeed doth ebb and flow.