A skylark rises, invisible, like the gentle, irregular whistle of a barely boiling kettle, singing on the hob. A good day to be a skylark. The merlins and sparrowhawks will be flummoxed by the clammy sea-mist that’s swirling in the air, like steam from that same celestial kettle that’s powering the songster.
In the distance, shapes that could be human walk along the sea-line – it’s nearly high tide but the water’s still a long way out.
This is the beach of my childhood memories, the ridged sand underfoot, the sea a distant, unfulfilled promise.
We park on the hard sand and stand, taking in the mysterious world around us. Well, mysterious except for the football-kicking boys behind us – but they’re soon lost to view.
A seagull’s garish cry is the loudest noise around, the mist wrapping everything else in a muffling, moist blanket.
It’s as if the world has been roundly admonished, for staying out late on Saturday night. This Easter Sunday morning, for a while at least, everything is very subdued.
Even the dogs are on their best behaviour, no frenzied rushing around, just chasing their exercise balls and coming straight back.
A ribbon of seaweed marks a line where the last tide turned. Razor clams crunch beneath our feet as we – at last – catch sight of the sea. It’s still coming in, but sliding gently, not breaking. Like everything else, a shadow of its stormier self.
A few huge mussel shells lie empty, cleaned out by canny gulls, perhaps, and here and there lie the miniature remains of a rather less common marine creature – a masked crab, or a sea potato.
Behind us the profile of the dunes rises, like so many dromedaries, behind a veil of a mist which curls and rolls but never clears.
The tea wagon sells lemon drizzle cake – it’d be rude not to, wouldn’t it?
We sit, English style, in our car, sipping hot tea-bag tea from polystyrene cups, nibbling half a slice of cake each, watching the stalwart kayakers unpack their rental van and head out to oblivion – let’s hope just temporary.
A dilapidated old horsebox, pale pastel blue, reminiscent of old-fashioned, town-council colours, of park gates and buses, disgorges a leggy chestnut creature. Skittish, but itching to trot.
The mist is still in charge. It’s cold and damp and it’s the longest walk I’ve done so far –and I feel it. Time to go.
One last long look at the view – or lack of it.
The sky and sea, humans and horses, dogs and seagulls all blended into one steam-coloured smudge of day.
As we leave I can still hear the skylark. But of course, it’s nowhere to be seen.
MEMOIRS OF A HUSK 
Thank you for this moment of serenity to start the day!
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You’re very welcome x
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Happy Easter. You walked a long way it appears:)
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Hope you had a happy Easter Sunday, Audrey. It looks further than it is but it was quite far enough – recovering today!
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Well done on getting on your feet. Onwards and upwards.
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Thanks very much, Charlie – I’m really doing very well, looking forward to being able to drive again but most of all to sleeping on my side! Onwards and sideways?!
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Thanks for taking me with you.
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Ah, you’re welcome and thank you for joining me!
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I love beaches of childhood memories. Of all that I’ve experienced, that first beach I walked on remains my favourite simply because it was.
Your Easter Sunday morning fog-wise was much like ours. But we were out in the hills rather than on the coast.
Such evocative pictures and words… I could almost feel the dampness and hear the muffled sounds, taking refuge like you in the warmth of car, tea and citrussy sweet cake.
Lovely.
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Thanks Elladee, odd to hear you had fog too – I hope your hills were warmer than our beach though!
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Lovely post M 🙂
We stayed at home and had family time on Sunday but we did visit the coast on Tuesday, we went to North Landing on Flamborough Head, one of our childrens favourite day trip destinations.
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Ah Flamborough Head – can’t remember when last I was there – must make the time to do it with the new Brit one of these days – he hasn’t been tho we’ve both done Robin Hood’s Bay many times in the past but not sure it feels the same now.
And thank you so much for that simple ‘lovely post’ – made me feel great! M
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By the way, we took delivery of the new car two weeks ago and were rather surprised to be handed a YELLOW car! It seems that the limelight green colour on Vauxhalls website is actually a pale lemon yellow not green at all. Thankfully my wife and I really like the colour but we are a bit annoyed that the online configurator can be so inaccurate.
The little car has been named Dafny (a deliberate spelling as it uses letters from her regno and also happens to be the name of a software compilation tool that I have used). Some pictures here: http://mud4fun.com/category/dafny/
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Ooh,Dafny, you are cute! And I like that colour (in its various shades).
Ours has finally become Issy (pronounced Izzy) short for Isabella as she just didn’t seem like a pearl or a snowdrop or anything else very white, esepcially not Omo or Aspro. Sad … so much creativity used for naming a car. But she’s a gem – though I haven’t been able to drive her for 5 weeks and 4 days – not that I’m counting down till next Wednesday or anything …
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“so much creativity used for naming a car.”
Very true, certainly in this household. My wife and children spent several days thinking about the name and even used some ‘child’ naming websites! I just sat there saying Yay or Nay to each suggestion….
Glad to hear that you will soon be mobile again. 🙂
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