Winter Sunset

From our home in the hillside twilight zone, it seems that we have had a day of sunshine. Here, we won’t see the sun for several weeks, but from our bedroom window I can see the wind turbines shining bright against the sea. It’s a baking day - I make my gluten free chocolate Christmas cake which decides to take an absolutely age to bake and by the time the testing skewer comes out clean, I realise there is scarcely an hour of daylight left. 

Hoping for a sunset, we head once more for West Shore, but the west itself seems blanketed with the thickest, blackest cloud imaginable. I am far from optimistic, but we’re here now, so a walk along the shore offers a consolation prize. 

There’s little colour, and the inky blackness over Anglesey is ominous. There’s enough light to illuminate the sea in silver streaks, but this is a cold monochrome scene so different from the technicolour vibrancy of previous sunset blips. 

Almost imperceptibly, the dark clouds over the Carneddau  disperse just fractionally, allowing subtle mauves and apricots  and gold to break through, reflected in the water on the sand. It’s a sunset of sorts - and perhaps an eminently appropriate one for the depths of December.