tides and suns

a cool evening walk at Morston after the heat of the day, and the heat of firing the kiln – not quite the temperature of the sun contained in my kiln, but heat derived from the old sun, the one that shone on those forests and animals millions of years ago.


a sun-coloured boat, the yellow saturated by the slanting light. the summer evening enhances the bright colours beloved of boat owners, everything picked out in glowing primaries.


Tilda so much almost wants to swim, it’s so hot, she hates the heat, but swimming is not quite her thing. she does love to paddle up to her knees though.


this old boat, ugly thing, is always tethered here next to the footbridge; I have never seen it leave its mooring.


mudlark living up to its name – such a sweet little boat, and the pure reflection in the perfectly still creek.


and the rows of cockles – uniform except for their owners’ individuality stamped on their naming, and their colour.


a buoy is always a thing of interest – or is it her appetite for seaweed?


a Mirror, glowing scarlet, wish I could just jump into her and sail off.


now out on the salt marsh, the dogs mobbed by redshank and oystercatcher, the tide nearly full, a few boats out there on the little breeze. it has gone round to the east again and is dying.


boats black against the brightness of the water and the sun.


more paddling. she can’t get enough wetness, after rushing around on the beach trying to make Sal play with her.


swans are always out here at the freshes, where the river joins the sea; trying to count them, there are more every time you look.


golden bars, tiger stripes, hills and valleys covered with trails.


Sal is golden too.


the water is moving in


covering the mud banks


surging over the seaweed


time to head back.


One Comment

Leave a Reply to aispir2 Cancel reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.