Evening light filters everything in a frosted pale wash. Flip flops crunch along the sand track toward the quay.
A wren, a blackbird, several wood pigeon and a whole gang of squabbling sparrows dart around me.
The breeze touches my skin, drifting like a deep sigh, not warm, yet not cold, just softly felt.
Delicate, naked agapanthus flowers catch my eye.
It’s a generously high tide, frothy swirls of water wash across the end of the quay. In the channel there is no sign of the many tiny islands and rocks that lay on the sea bed. I know they are there but now they are hidden, engulfed.
It brings a thought popping into my head, that old saying, out of sight out of mind. I am terribly guilty of this flaw. Tonight it makes me think about our world, our nature. Just because we can not see the devastation to the rainforest, the floating islands of plastic in our oceans or the human inflicted misery on our wildlife, doesn’t mean it’s not happening.
Just like the hidden rocks at high tide, I may not see but I know.
I must, I think to myself, try to make a concerted effort to be much more mindful of the environments I can’t see as well as those that I live with.
Anyway, enough of the talking to, time for a swim. There’s only one way to do it today, a leap off the quay. I plunge myself into my favourite world of green sea and silver bubbles, bobbing to the surface for air.
A straight forward, arm stretching swim out among the buoys, feeling the light disappear, watching the ocean darken.
A few dives and tumbles to move the body and free the mind before heading back to shore.
A great way to end the day.
All snuggled up