Fragility and strength

The gale hit last night. Rattling doors and windows, whistling through cracks. Furious winds whipping waves up into a frenzy. Yet by dawn blue skies had appeared, clouds blowing onwards to the east. My morning stroll brought the sight of bladder-wrack and kelp piled high, debris churned up from the ocean floor. Rockpools muddied and sullied by sand. Tangled on the shoreline a few unfortunate fish lay, victims of the storm. Yet on top of the seaweed a fragile white globe lay, cradled gently. A fragile sea potato shell had somehow ridden in on the waves, coming to rest intact. Strength in the storm.

NB – a sea potato is a type of sea urchin – Echinocardium cordatum. Their shells are incredibly fragile and it’s quite rare to find one intact. For a closer look, check out this post by Inish Boffin Crafts

Weather watching

A bright sunshine-filled dawn this morning. Washing flapps on the line in the warmth. Blue skies reflected in sea. Beautiful. Sitting in the window, I watch as the rising wind whips the waves. Froth topped, riding into the shore. Beyond, the Mull slowly disappears under a bank of dark cloud. Shafts of rain highlighted against the sunshine. Then it arrives. An abrupt squall leads from rain into hailstones, bouncing off cars and pavements. The wind blows and onwards it moves, leaving behind soggy washing on the line, and mud-stirred water in the bay. Out came the sun. And so the cycle begins. This evening a walk is snatched between showers. Balanced against the breeze,  I head towards the beach. Puddle-dodging along the way. Hail-spattered sand greets me, like the tracks of a strange creature. The waves are still riding high. And across the bay, another black mass approaches. Turning for home, the rainbow greets me. A fitting end to a rainbow day.

Camouflage

Sand crunches quietly under my feet. The sea ripples in the distance. The world seems subdued under a layer of thin drizzle. Rockstrewn strand is covered with bladderwrack. The colours are muted today. A flash of white catches my eye. An unexpected movement where there was stillness. I look  more closely. Nothing. Focus in closer. Another flicker. There. Can you see it? Watching?

Shelter and sheepfold

Sheltered from the wind I sit. Propped against the walls of the old sheepfold. Stones warm against my back. In front, the waves roll in across the bay. The hills of Jura are visible in the distance, shadows on the horizon. I close my eyes. Rest in the sun. And let the day wind onwards. At peace.

On guard

Camouflaged against the rocks, the heron stands. Motionless. Studying the water. A twig snaps under my feet. Instantly he is alert. Head raised. I freeze. Hardly breathing. In two minds, he spreads his wings. A moment of decision. He tucks them back behind him, hunching over to stare again at the sea. Slowly I let out my breath. We return to our watch.

Corncrake song

Sat with my back against a dune

White sands stretched out in front

Rolling down to cerulean sea

Islands floating in the distance

Splash of the waves

Breaking against the rock

And behind me

In the machair

A corn crake calls.

 

Final rest

She lies at rest. All work is over, many years ago. Watches the seabirds soar and swoop. Listens to the sound of the tide. Dreams of the past, when once she sailed through life. Here is her harbour, this quiet place on the shore. Here she returns to the elements.

NB up in the Hebrides on the island of Mull for a fortnight, so some different scenery for you to enjoy