A music of wind and waves we would never have known weaves her magic through delicate times. An invisible urge helps us connect at a deeper level, with ourselves, our fellow humans, all living creatures.
slowing down the earth can breathe again listen, listen
The early morning breeze is invigorating, the surf behind us roars. Eivor and Pearl shimmy between scattered seaweed, branches peeled from drifting trees. Seagulls are feasting on crabs, before the curlew get here.
the camera clicks a sea too wild for fishing winter memories
This quadrille is also a ruba’i, a form of Persian poetry, usually written as two couplets or a quatrain with a rhyme scheme of aaaa or aaba and thirteen syllables per line. Because of the 44-word limit of the quadrille I’ve slightly bent the rules for the ruba’i. You can find an earlier example of a ruba’i in One More Glance, a poem that also features in Between Heather and Grass.
Wishing you all a beautiful Tuesday,
with love from Eivor, Pearl and Xenia xxx
Photographs by Xenia Tran, edited in lr.
Settings: f/2.8 – 1/2000 s – ISO 100, f/2.8 – 1/1000 s – ISO 100 and f/6.5 – 1/160 s – ISO 160.
this summer blessed with sun we walked ten miles and talked of shorelines and geology beyond amazed what has become our tidal land, plucked from desert, sea and glacier we’re grateful time has brought us near our gentle surf and all that glitters here
We tiptoe through layers of grass, brown heather and stone. The mountain’s steady pulse becomes our anchor with the wind whirling around her boulders. We can rest here. We can sip from the rising spring.
between the melting snow fields
In early June clouds float across Lochan Deo, the water slightly receding after an un-seasonable warm week. Today, clouds only float in sky. The loch is dry, earth lies parched between stones, curved driftwood.
the pine and heather
for rain to fall