Monday, 7 May 2012

Ethereal Estuaries

Briney Pickled Ancient Wood
I sat down for a cuppatea this morning after a bike ride and my daughter was watching ' Swallows and Amazons' on the tele. It reminded me of the lost wonderful hours I spent as a kid messing around in the Fertha Estuary mud flats and tide discovering hidden beaches and islands, looking for crabs and eels in rockpools and rowing around in our little wooden boat 'The Kestrel'
trip down memory river

 Myself and brothers or sisters would disappear through the wood, under the barbed wire , through Kelly's meadow and climb down the cliff to the Diving Rock and time would become meaningless as we were absorbed in swimming, fishing, and finding all sorts of treasure in the mud..and we were always caked in it.

Twilight Zone

The sun always seemed to shine, the water was always warm and the feeling of jumping into the seaweed smelly blackwater from the Diving Rock or The Kestrel was always ..'just one more time..'
We knew the time of the full and low tide as it ruled the the summer hols we knew the time by the length of the shadow and the height of the sun over Cnoc na Dtobar Mountain. The call of the Curlews is a call that comes to mind when I think of that place where the membrane between sea and land, real and dream, past and present is little more than a whisper.