Nearly every step was a stagger as we fought the wind. It blustered and blew against us; Hannah and I were struggling just to cross the yard. We rounded the corner of the schoolmaster's house and walked a short way until we found the path. Bracing ourselves, we stood for a moment in the sun, sloppy grins appearing on our faces for approximately the millionth time. (Possibly the 40 millionth.) Before us, the tall grasses bent nearly flat and the trees bowed and shook.
We started down the path at a brisk walk, dodging rocks and ruts. Momentum began to build as we went and soon we were sprinting over the dirt, gasping for breath as the wind threatened to snatch it from our throats. The sudden line of hedges forced a halt. We stood and we looked and there was the sea. Sparkling, shining, shimmering in the sun. Over the whitecaps, we could see the mainland spread out, consisting primarily of fields and sheep. Waves crashed conversationally on the shore, chattering on the rocks, and with my hair flying around my face and the smell of salt in the air, it almost felt like home.
This is intriguing. I like your style here. :) That last sentence is a favorite: "waves crashed conversationally on the shore, chattering on the rocks..." Yes, it sounds beautiful. I wish I were there. :)
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