Tales from The Tundra

Greetings and welcome to a bumpy ride. This is the first hoisting of the flag. At the moment a south easterly is blowing and the sea is rising, pushed by the wind. The sea is washing over the jetty at the bottom of my garden, I wonder if it will be there in the morning, the jetty that is, because hopefully the sea will always be there.

I'm battened down for winter, the clocks have lost an hour and my collection of various boats are on land and covered up. More on those boats in a later epistle. We wait for the snow, like the bears and squirrels. Bring it on mother nature.