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The sands were back last week – not completely but another month and they would be. Yesterday the storms sepped up the momentum and so the waves ravage the coast as the rain flooded the lower hinterlands. John – our son - could not get his ten year old son Kieran through to the local hospital at Nambour. The seas tore trees out that had been panted to stabilise the coastal banks fringing the beach. The sands have gone down a quarter of a metre at the very top and are metres lower twenty metres down the beach. Foam like the top on a shaky beer is competely dominating the waves breaking and right up the beach. A man walked his dog fluffy and white with a touch of pink. Just like the foam. I hope he kept the leash on and firmly held.

People of all ages point and laugh with delight. Teen agers shout greetings. Smaller children always want someone to look too. Tiny people 2′s – 3′s are perplexed. It doesn’t fit their image of things that move on roads. It doesn’t fit with what adults ride in. The problem is “How does he get out Mummy? He doesn’t have any doors”. Sometime mothers explain others stand alongside and say “Let’s look”. The child is then delighted, amused or simply on to other things. Those with adult explanation and reassurance are still frowning through their perplexity even having seen for themselves that I can and have got out without a door.

Don

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The beach crawls with flora weedy and scrawny greeny greys and fighting brighter green clawing into the sand will it hold against high tide will rising global seas simply swamp its effort.