For Our Senses to Grow Sharper

Photography practice in my lunch-break by the harbour. Colour, pattern, light. My fingers trembling in the cold north wind.

green harbour rope

~~~

Tuesday evening and already I am office-weary, paper tired, screen glazed over.

‘I’m not going to practice today,’ I say to myself. ‘You don’t have to wonder all the time. Everyday doesn’t mean every day anyway. I’m too tired to wonder today.’

‘I understand,’ answered the moon, hanging fat and nearly full over the office car-park, hanging fat and nearly full and dizzy white and brilliant clear, enough to make you gasp with wonder.

~~~

Another day of wind and rain, the light never shifting past a state of half-dark. Another day with nothing to see, I think and then catch myself:

I mean another day with nothing to capture and I shift my gaze to what I can see: the muted amber browns of the moor in the rain, the way the wind moves over the slate-grey loch, and ruffles its surface.

~~~

Watching the heather in winter and I had forgotten how much the winter talks of summer coming, the promise made by flowers.

winter heather

~~~

Feeding the birds before work ~ the silhouettes of starlings in the wind-blown over rowan, the loudness of the honking of geese.

~~~

The weather changes at the weekend and we’re blessed with two sunlit days, so mild in the sun by Loch Seaforth that I sit for a while without a jacket and watch the water. It’s so quiet down there, so peaceful, so still, I can hear the seaweed popping as it’s dried by the warmth of the sun.

Loch Seaforth in February sun

The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.

~ W.B.Yeats

2 thoughts on “For Our Senses to Grow Sharper”

  1. I’ve been a journal reader for years and am really enjoying this phase of your blog, your wonderings and wanderings and the love of island life that shines off the page like the light you capture so beautifully. I’ve just read this post in my coffee break and it’s transported me back to my childhood and teenage years and to my years in Greece, living by the sea. I loved nothing more than to just sit in the sun, listening to seagulls and watching the light dancing on the waves. I can smell that popping seaweed! Your site, as always, has inspired me to get out more and enjoy this beautiful country of ours. I’m a shameful Scot when it comes to exploring, but I’m very allergic to midge bites and I think that holds me back a bit.

    1. Scotland is beautifully big Janice, hopefully you can find some good non-midgy spots. When I’d spend summers in Skye the rivers were horrendous but by the sea was generally okay, so long as not dead still. I’m hoping Lewis will be breezy enough that it won’t be too terrible but ask me again after the biting season!

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