Friday, back from Fredericksburg.
We arrive at Hillcrest, our home again,
In thirty minutes, through the low woods and dunes
We are on the beach,
Rosie the puppy is excited, as we are to be back.
Shingle stones, a thousand different shades of brown and grey.
Grey skies to match and a warm wind,
Across the channel of water, that imitates the sky,
Thinly visible the coast of Somerset.
All of a sudden! A flock of dinghies hurries across the water,
Their sails are small triangles against the half-light of a
storm.
Wigfach is a small village comprising twelve cottages, a Post Box and
the Happy Valley Caravan Park
somewhere between Porthcawl and Bridgend in South Wales.
somewhere between Porthcawl and Bridgend in South Wales.
The term "a flock of dinghies" reminds me of watching the local sailing club doing their thing in Mount's Bay (Penzance, Cornwall). Most of the sails were red, and my Dad always called the boats "Redwings".
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