The high tide coincides with the sunrise this morning, so the sea feels as though it’s lapping at my doorstep as I step out into the garden and breathe in the warm, fresh air of spring.
High tide is my favourite time of day. The sea feels so imperceptibly close, creeping up the cliffside to say hello. I can throw a stone from my house and hear it land with a satisfying splash below, with just a small stretch of coastal path separating my home from the swell of the North Sea.
This morning the world is tranquil and soft. The sea sits perfectly still, almost mirror-like as it glistens against the golden light of the rising May Day sun. I wiggle my toes in the grass, which we’ve left to grow long in our garden; scattered with daisies and wildflowers. There isn’t much morning dew today, but I brush my face against the ground anyway - honouring the ancient Celtic tradition of washing your face in the first dew after Beltane.
Last night, I sat in a favourite spot along the coastline; a tiny hidden beach covered in white shells, and watched the evening unfold. We built a small bonfire, cooked some local mackerel and celebrated our first Beltane in our new coastal home. As the light dimmed, the night felt alive with the promise of a new season, a glimmering hopefulness which crackled like electricity in the air.
I’ve always loved Beltane. Falling shortly after my birthday, it feels like such a time of renewal. Our brightest, longest days are still to come, still to look forward to. Things are beginning to happen; lambs fill the fields, flowers erupt from the soil in their colourful droves, the sea warms and the air feels gentle and soft. We no longer have to brace ourselves against the harshness of winter; which usually draws itself out longer than you’d think here in the Scotland. Sometimes you can never quite relax until May has arrived; trusting at last that the icy winds and grumpy storms of late April have finally subsided.
As the May Day sun rises, my vision is flooded with orange warmth. The eider ducks hum to each other on the waves below, and the tiny garden birds begin their dawn chorus, eager to busy themselves with the day.
I think about what is ahead. May, June, July & August. The Solstice, the long nights, the hot, bright, busyness of summer. There are some adventures waiting for me amidst the tangle of these wild months I hope.
I look forward to discovering what I find.
As deep as I ever went into the forest
I came upon an old stone bench, very, very old,
and around it a clearing, and beyond that
trees taller and older than I had ever seen.Such silence!
It really wasn’t so far from a town, but it seemed
all the clocks in the world had stopped counting.
So it was hard to suppose the usual rules applied.Sometimes there’s only a hint, a possibility.
What’s magical, sometimes, has deeper roots
than reason.
I hope everyone knows that.I sat on the bench, waiting for something.
An angel, perhaps.
Or dancers with the legs of goats.No, I didn’t see either. But only, I think, because
I didn’t stay long enough.- Mary Oliver
Such gentle potency in your words
Your words take me across the ocean to your shores. It’s a lovely ride!