This is the Sea

The Peninsula
When you have nothing more to say, just drive
For a day all round the peninsula.
The sky is tall as over a runway,
The land without marks, so you will not arrive
But pass through, though always skirting landfall.
At dusk, horizons drink down sea and hill,
The ploughed field swallows the whitewashed gable
And you're in the dark again. Now recall
The glazed foreshore and silhouetted log,
That rock where breakers shredded into rags,
The leggy birds stilted on their own legs,
Islands riding themselves out into the fog,
And drive back home, still with nothing to say
Except that now you will uncode all landscapes
By this: things founded clean on their own shapes,
Water and ground in their extremity.
Seamus Heaney
It could have been written for here.

A horrible grey soupy morning, hot and sticky with a persistent mizzle. But who am I to complain when seeing the ghastly photos from Oregon and California. I gardened, revealing paths and attracting midges.

In the afternoon we tried the stone circle circuit again and got nearly as drenched as yesterday, this time from sweating glowing. At around 4pm the skies miraculously started to clear and the water looked incredible. Minimal in colours and shapes but hypnotic in its beauty.

I was steaming on return and decided to risk a swim. Down to the swimming beach and all looked a bit grim to start with - a dead dolphin and a little red tide but further down was fine. I immersed and it was cold - but heavenly. I was soon joined by an ex-pupil and her parents and we had a good old catch up. We got out before the politics got too dismal: a right shit storm across the water, predicted civil war in the US and harmony in NZ were all put forward. Hard to disagree with that. 
This is the sea