There’s a distinct might and valor as a hurricane begins to take command of the skies. Wind and rain build with each passing moment; the backdrop changing consistently, from a soft, cloudy grey to a deep, smoldering and ashy slate. As the skies continue to darken, the rain thickens to a tumultuous gale. The heavy wind forces the torrents path sidelong, soaking everything in its falling course and drowning the land. The branches of trees are strained and pulled far from their natural resting place as the wind battles through every crevice. Debris rushes about in an aimless course. However, the true beauty of a hurricane lies in the skies. Even in the midst of torrential downpour, the backdrop…the atmosphere…can look peaceful; still, almost, and suggests that the eye of the storm is near.
Each shoreline is different: from the sand, to the water, to the skies. Frosted, powdery white sands sit closest to the coastland dunes, tangles of roots and tall grasses situated about, transitioning then to a grainy brown as crushed shells taint the sand with lavender flecks; salty water hard packs the sand to a spongy, dark brown as you walk towards the border. Sea foam garnishes the small waves nearest shore, and the ocean waters are ever-changing as they reflect the current wind and skies: White, blue, and gold seas with steady crashing swells in the morning; pink, purple, and still waters in the evening; bright blue tides with reflecting diamonds atop the waters as the summer sun bounces atop it in the late afternoon. Flashes of color and light gleam upon the waters, creating a dazzling and shimmering path. Shallow pools with clear, shining waters appear as the tide draws back. The salty mist brings about messy hair and sandy skin. What characterizes the beach most though is the horizon; the progression of the colors and the sharp lines.
Going to the beach during a hurricane:
The expanse of the ocean is a dark, murky brown as the waves brutally and powerfully churn up the sea floor. The wind carries the tips of the many crashing waves upwards towards the sky, creating a billowy mist just above the swells. Skies are darkened and foreboding, looking as though just hovering above land, yearning to open up and drop upon everything underneath. The sand is ripped apart to a fine grain, the fragments darting this way and that with the heavy gale, making it hard to keep your eyes open. The wind is strongest nearest water.