Escape to the winter grey of the Calvados

There’s no escaping the grey in France during winter. 

From October through till April, everywhere you look,  cloud lingers low and there’s a dampness in the air.   The sun makes the rarest of appearances, her warm glow tucked away, out of sight.  People wrap up heavy to match the sombre colour of the skyline. 

Not someone to be bothered by winter, I embrace it.  My favourite season came like a built-in wardrobe with coats and chunky scarves, gloves, pink cheeks that glow when everyone returns to the warm air from the chill outside.  Hot chocolates and vin chaud, cider and galettes.

It also happens to be the time when I most prefer the ocean.  And when it all comes together like a Saturday trifecta, there’s only one thing to do.  Jump in the car and head to the Calvados.  Unlike the summer rush, it’s mostly void of tourists. With the exception of a few cars making their return to the UK, there are no crowds lounging about the harbour, no long waits to get into one of the quaint, fisherman restaurants.  The waters are calm, the beaches littered with pebbles and shells waiting to be collected by pint-sized fingers.

The grey slate buildings blend perfectly with the sky, the ocean, the lunch, and the quiet harbour.  It’s a little corner of heaven, and my favourite escape.

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2 Responses to Escape to the winter grey of the Calvados

  1. Michael says:

    This is a beautiful reminder for me of the days spent at my grandparents. You could always tell when it was grey and cold without opening the curtains. There would be a knock on my bedroom door and my favourite hat & scarf (my grandfathers old paisley scarf and tweed cap) would be tossed onto my bed and the sound and aroma of flasks been filled, sandwiches been wrapped in old baking paper filled my senses.
    We would walk for miles talking but often in silence too. Watching the angry waves rise up and then crash down trying to reach you, again and again, never to succeed.

    Games off cricket and our future adventures were planned and dreamed off on these walks.

    The large grey buildings de-void of their summer colour would stand tall and do what they were always meant to do, take everything the sea and wind could throw at them and say “is that all?” Then there doors would open and let you in when they new it was time to warm by the fires and eat and drink and let you watch from within.
    Today i still strive to live the conversations we had on those cold, wet and grey days.
    This is why i too, love winter and the coast.
    Thank you for sharing your words and pictures.
    They made me smile..

    • carams says:

      Michael,
      I treasure the moments of childhood in the company of my grandparents. The routines, the smells, even the taste of food sometimes lingers, yet without their presence, the complete memory remains just out of reach.
      How wonderful for you to have such rich memories of your grandparents and winter walks on the beach watching the wild waves.
      Carina

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