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.
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 🙂
The forest has been uprooted. The trees of the sea lie along the tide line. A sprawling mass of glossy green brown, fronds spread out, intertwined. Kelp, wrack, furbelows. A solitary kelp languishes halfway up the beach. Clinging firmly on to the rock, it lies hopefully. Waiting for the next tide to sweep it away and replant it.
In shadowed valleys and hidden nooks, winter still lingers on. Reluctant to bid farewell. Yet down on the shore, spring is arriving. The rock-pools are resuming their busy lives after the long rest. Sea flowers spread open in their beauty before my eyes today, drifting gently to and fro on the undercurrent.
The rocks lie in the splash zone. Rarely completely covered at high tide. Dampened by the spray and the sea breeze. Hiding there, among the secret crevices and cracks, is the nursery. Hundreds of tiny sea snails, waiting for the right moment to leave their secure home and venture out into the wide ocean.
NB the finger is my little finger – for an idea of scale, it is less than 8mm wide! Yes, I have little hands.