Not a same spring blossoms the same…
This year’s is a precocious one.
A wander round the the eastside of the island revealed not only celandine, but unexpected primrose in bloom at Fladdabister.
Our greylag geese still grace our world, together with a plethora of summer visitors in search of a great pedestal for courtship display. The fertile pocket of lushness that is the Tingwall Valley was littered with shalders (oystercatchers), common & black-headed gulls in full regalia… Summer’s definitely on its way!
Two nights ago, we still marvelled at auroras in much calmer conditions. Oh, not the draping, shimmering ones in my Sandwick sky, but a green glow in this late March starry night. Wonderful moment, for northern lights do remain one of my favourite earth spectacles, together with sunrise & sunset, and storm petrels trading places on the isle of Mousa during the Simmerdim.
tied a’da noost
The Haar, as this maritime natural phenomenon is known in Scotland, has come early as this year’s spring buds. Today, we reverted to summer time in white, as seafog veiled most of our shore on the eastside of the island. Every building turns a ghost shape, every silhouette, a spirit. Yesterday, west and east were heavily shrouded down. The drive to Weisdale proved an eerie journey from start to finish… Today, the Haar turns in to mist, and as I type, begins to lift around my township.
Magic, mystical, as our world gradually warms up, we watch in white; listen for birdsong, calling gulls and the sea in a cullen skink sky… I redesign the horizon.
Kiss of life from our cold North Sea!
We can only hope for a sun that is strong enough to burn it. My friend Debbie, who lives in Aith, on the westside, recorded a morning of sunshine. Mind you, the Haar is a trickster, for wicks and voes vanish and reappear at will. it wanders around each bay, and engulfs long narrow inlets of water at amazing speed! It could be called Loki… I much prefer a more feminine persona, as Lady Mist.