An
early walk down to the sea and taking a bus along the coast. Such a
feeling of stillness and a breath held. A beautiful pause to dream
in.
The
wide, wild open spaces of Romney Marsh and the shingle beach; flat,
empty, seemingly reaching on forever.
entranced by the faraway sea,
silver light spinning shimmers across the shallows, rich mudflats of
toffee and cinnamon ripples, the small dots of sea birds in the
distant blue. This world of salt and shallow, so much hidden in this landscape that might like you to believe that it has revealed everything.
Ice Age shingle beaches, a sprinkling of shells and
different kinds of seaweed ~ one that looked as though it was made of felt that I didn't believe was real until I saw its sister in the shallow water, small treasures to be found everywhere if only I remembered to force my eyes away from the wide silver-blue to the ground beneath my feet.
the warm wood of the boardwalk and the small lichens who have made it their home. the unexpected texture of sea kale ~ so much to learn about this new kind of green, and the face of a tiny stone-spirit found in a beach pebble.
So much that
was unfamiliar and which I long to learn about. And the absolute
silence so loud that I could almost hear the song of the Salt Mother.
Almost.
The
buzz of my friend's coffee morning, full of people who felt that they
held the warmth of community; good conversation, plots and plans
woven, much laughter, sweet truffles put in a little box to take home
to Himself, and Victoria Sponge for me. My favourite!!
Bright
sunflowers against clear blue sky.
The
familiarity of the intimate beaches of home. Nothing wide and wild there, except the sea, the sea and the black of our night-sky cormorant.
The
coolness of the woods on a hot, hot day, and the continued stillness
of Equinox; looking up in awe of the tree people who grow there, the
air filled with tiny fairy-like light beings, the Equinox sun now
and then bursting through a gap in the trees and making the leaves glow golden.
Finding
a gathering of tiny, tiny mushrooms in the park.
Good
conversation and sharing with Himself on a walk high above the, by
then, darkening blue sea; white wave tops and the most stunning view
of France, which I have never seen so clearly. We talked of our
ancestors looking out across the waves and seeing this mysterious
land of chalk cliffs and green hills that appears and disappears,
seemingly like magic. No wonder that our folklore is full of such
tales.
A
hand lick from a shy ginger cat and then from a very unshy little
dog.
A
tray of far-too-abundant-for-one-man apples on a wall freely shared
with passers by. I left a little thank you note and the apples were
delicious. What a magical day for the sharing of apples!
The
most perfect Autumn Equinox in this new place.
