Love & langour

After more than 4 days of every type of rain from light drizzle, total cloud including the lowest arc of rainbow possible, pouring and light relentless, today the sun popped up from the blistering south.

Made up of concreted sandbags left from World War II, Naast’s little jetty pushing into Loch Ewe, beckoned.

The jetty had been invaluable to the Norwegian convoy to allow supplies of basics necessary to support those who defended the North Atlantic shores of Scotland.

As the tide lulls me into a near perfect meditation, seaweed rhythmic and gentle, one can see remains of a concrete structure submerged often by the tide. There’s little else to remind me of just how busy and industrious this sweet bay would have been.

Now it’s sandpipers, the call of oyster catchers, a heron tempering its wings as it decides where to perch and the roar of the burn, full and powerful from our days of rain.

There’s chickens in the field as the croft livens with its new owners. Wildlife is encouraged here, two dogs find their home excitingly furnished with the tails of lambs that have grazed the field flat.

I walk always to the young silver birch tree where we hung a ribbon and watched ashes of Fergus. milky white ,stream into the sea loch. Such love and languor fill this walk beneath more birch and beech to the shore and back.

At home, i dally on the nursing chair. I am not a nurse or nursing but it welcomes me to an almost sleep.