The weather hasn’t been friendly today. In fact, it’s “blowing a hooley”, and has been for most of the afternoon, with sustained gale-force winds and 70mph gusts. The storm isn’t supposed to die down until midnight.
I can feel the heavy weight of winter on my shoulders. I haven’t walked the loop in five days. Thankfully, tomorrow’s forecast looks much better – especially in the morning.
Camille’s been waiting a whole week to walk with me, so I’ll brew coffee, drink a cup and then head up the hill with her in tow. We’ll hike as far as we can before the mud stops us: past the burn, along the winding track toward the first abandoned farm. Then we’ll turn back, head down the road to the beach and hunt for sea glass, shells and other ocean treasures thrown up by the westerly.
It won’t be long until signs of spring begin to appear. First, we’ll see snowdrops, then Solomon’s Seal, wild narcissus and tiny yellow primroses. Soon, the sea stacks will shimmer with bluebells, and there’ll be a purple haze on the hill behind the house again.
But not yet. Not quite yet.