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Bristol , United Kingdom
I'm co-director of the Leaping Word Poetry Consultancy, which provides advice for poets on writing, editing and publishing, as well as qualified counselling support for those exploring personal issues in their work - https://theleapingword.com. My fifth poetry collection, Learning Finity, is now available from Indigo Dreams or directly from me.

Wednesday 27 December 2017

Colder than the Scales on a Mermaid's Tail

The forecast was brilliant sun, with a temperature of 5°C, so we promised Ted we'd take him to the beach for a nice long run the next morning. 

It was tipping with rain when we went to bed. So we didn't expect to wake up to snow all the way over to the Cotswolds. Still, the forecast still said sunny all day, and 6°C at Berrow, so we decided we Might Just Risk It. 

Once in Somerset there was a smudge of snow on the Mendips too, though not on nearby Brent Knoll.

It was sheltered winding our way along the sunken footpath between the thickets of thorn and sea buckthorn. Ted, who had sulked when we got into the car because he hadn't really understood the beach bit, brightened dramatically and led the way to the shore. There, however, a northerly wind was biting ... and it had put its teeth in. 

We'd arrived bang on high tide. Not only could you could see the sea, it had waves in it. There was snow on distant Exmoor ... 

... and on the probably-not-quite-as-distant-as-the-crow-flies Welsh hills ...

... but the freezing cold didn't put Ted off. 

In fact, it didn't put any of us off. We were having a lovely time. 

There was no sign of the wreck of the SS Nornen sticking up through the waves, even though the beach is very flat and the yellow buoys which mark the site looked as if they were close to the shore.

And the sanderlings which had been scurrying along the high tide line departed sharpish when Ted materialised. 
The oystercatchers hung around a little longer, though. 

We could only bear to walk into the wind as far as the first set of groynes. Up in the dunes, however, it was much balmier, and the views were gorgeous. 

Over to Steep Holm and the coast of Wales

Up to Brean Down

Over to Brent Knoll ... with a raven overhead

In fact, there were lots of ravens.

Looking down to the Quantocks

It was a mercy to turn our backs to the wind and walk 
back down the beach.  

Already the dark was seeping up from the ground as we made our way back through the dunes to the churchyard. 
But we were full of light. 

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