It’s been a pleasantly mild, damp, misty day… somewhat “dreich” but a welcome disincentive to prevaricate and go out on the bike or on foot and, instead, make some progress indoors at the keyboard on something I’m writing to try to persuade the local government to deal with some dangerous gaps in local cycling routes…
Still, I had to get outside for a short while and the Forth Estuary is only a few hundred metres away, over the dykes that keep the shore away from being almost a private, muddy, beach near the house I live in just now.
Nobody else was around, though I could hear distant traffic on the Clackmannan Bridge, “normal” people were watching TV, gaming, Face-booking or whatever, not walking in wellies over squelching salt-marsh grasses with the warm scent of nearby mud and water and wet grass filling their senses.
Perched on a yellow navigation marker, high above the low water, a small group of Cormorants sat making quiet noises and hanging out their wings in the damp air to dry. Other birds circled and screeched but remained invisible to me, their pale plumage blending them into the low cloud above. An occasional gull stood on the mud, looking at it with a pessimistic air, in my mind at least. Water bubbled quietly in a few thin drainage channels while I made a sketch and took a few photographs.
I returned over a tidy line of spring-tide flotsam, leftovers of many lives, up against the dyke, climbed up through wet vegetation and back, pausing to smell the intense scent of the remaining wild roses, a bumble bee frantically busy collecting nectar and pollen. All activity felt remote and small-scale, as if the world were taking a Sunday rest.
The misty air was clearing, a bit, from the West and with it, my mind felt a little more active and ready… home, coffee, cookies, words.