Lockdown Diaries: Day 61 - Hieroglyphs

The gale came with warning. We were prepared for the high winds, although I didn't quite believe it would come true: 

"The weather forecast is saying 60 miles per hour, but it can't be: it's May! It's almost summer!"

Famous last words, for winds over that were recorded on South Uist yesterday, but with the warning from the forecast, preparations had been carried out and no harm was done. Here, anyway, and hopefully with you too. 

Then, in the afternoon, with cobwebs that needed shaken loose a beach walk was the plan. And despite the inclement weather, it was enchanting. It reminded me of our winters, our beautiful, wild winters and it brought colour to my cheeks and stole my breath for laughter. The wind collected up the loose sand and skittered it over the beach, creating hieroglyphs in movement, each lasting longer in memory than in reality. The sea was not immune and blew sideways, with the white horses becoming disenchanted as they reached their peak, losing form and becoming vapour. 

​A swallow, a true symbol of summer, looked like it was struggling. Across the beach it was blown on the wing, until over the surf it eventually gave in and allowed the wind to take it. But what looked uncontrolled was a careful working with the wind to bring it back into the shelter of the dune, from where it flew following the line, and feeding on any insects that could be caught. Again and again it followed the same pattern, at times looking like its energetic wing beats were only causing it to be stationary, but these tiny birds have more ability than we can even guess at: it migrates on the wing, it lives on the wing, and the wind is but a mechanism to be worked alongside.

It's refreshing, the wind is. To feel it batter our bodies and smatter sand against our faces brings peace. My sandy eyelids grated against my eyes and my winter gear was the only thing keeping me dry, but to be in the here and now, to have our eyes and hearts open, to be able, to be happy and lighthearted. What more could we want for now? Or for the future?