I wish I could show you this morning. It was the sort of sight that makes getting up and going out for coffee worth it – not, of course, that I’m now convinced to do it more often. But it was lovely.
There was a soft blue-dove sky and sea, barely a shade away. The light was the kind that nudges up the contrast bar, making a profile into a silhouette, and the dark volcanic rocks black hulks next to bright foam crests. You called it an evening sky. There was barely a swell, only tilting stretches of the plain. Not cold, not wet. Well, not yet.
Later the last of the storm came in droves of drops against the window, but we were home by then.