Monday, 15 February 2010

Cabin fever

A small high tide for us today. Above the dark swaying fringe of evidence where the highest waves had struck, most of the stones were pale and dry. One of those soft days of grey sea and muted symphonic skies.

Towering cumulus were cut through by a horizon that pinked their towering blooms at the edges like in old style tourist posters that promise sun tomorrow. The sun broke through in just a few places, slanted down great girders of light to spot the sea like patches mark a horse's back. And West of here, a strange green shade like the pastel colours seen in films of the Northern Lights, muffled the swell out where clouds hung low.

I was walking home in not quite enough clothes and my eyes were gobbling it all up and trying not to cry in the wind. Not enough time outdoors. The cabin fever is getting to me.

I came home, switched the radio on to hear by chance something wonderful I'd not played for many years. Memories fell into image drift as I stewed blackberries harvested last Autumn. They inked my fingers with purple stains.


Gordon Mason said...

Full of colours! I enjoyed this.

Saw a photo of the Chinese New Year celebration lights on the old pier - quite an effect.

Annie said...

Hi Gordon. Yes, the more I looked, the more I saw that the greys contained many other colours - just too cold to hang around!

The shots I've seen of the old pier swathed in green lights and lasers looked fab. I had no idea that was planned.

Kelly M. said...

Just visited for the first time and know that "cabin fever" feeling. You write beautifully -- could picture that scene before you easily. Spring cannot be too far off -- I hear more and more birdsong everyday!

Annie said...

Hi Kelly. Thanks for dropping by and for your kind words. I was looking at your work on line. You have some stunning photos which I will be returning to later.

You know, I was listening to the birdsong this morning before it got light and it has turned into a gorgeous crisp sunny day, so I will be hitting the road for a long walk with camera and tiny notebook!

layers said...

you do not need any images in your posts-- as your writing is so beautiful-- VERY visual words-- like my one of my favorite authors Ellen Meloy.

Annie said...

Hi Donna. Thank you very much.

I haven't read Ellen Maloy, but I just read a bit about her online and will see if I can find some of her work. Thanks for mentioning her.

Magyar said...

Cabin fever.
__We, then, are quite like that semi-hibernating bear; in our hovel we linger through this 'slow-filled time,' conciously longing for a closer sun, and thus to become that "newly greened leaf."
__Your blackberries bring to mind
my yearn for the 'fast-filled time'... the harvest of summer.

Annie said...

Hi Magyar. I like the hibernating bear image. I've been thinking of myself as a bulb waiting under the ground for that warm sun. It's been a long wait this year - the Winter has been harsh for many. Of course, my vegetable plot waits for me. All the work will be late this year, but that means we'll get to harvest later into the Autumn as well.