Windy and cold, with a chance of snow
Micah and I could see the wind waves on the water from 8,000 feet as we dropped into Sea-Tac at last light yesterday. On final approach, our 737 was clearly being buffeted about, and I half-expected a “firm arrival,” what we called it back in my flying days, but the pilot greased the landing. Traffic didn’t suck excessively and we got back to T-town without much drama. As we parked, the wind thrashed its way through the tall trees and blew the hat from my head. Walking down the stairs to the beach, we could hear the waves crashing below, which, if you do not know Salmon Beach, is a mostly rare and entirely unwelcome sound. Especially at high tide. Living on a beach is literally living “close to the edge,” and when that edge starts to give way, it’s a hard reality.
The wind was howling then and it got even stronger over time, right up until it all went black.