We are woman, we are beautiful.
When it comes to the Nordic connection, the web widens as we network. This is exactly what happened with a kindred spirit from Hamburg, as we began to mingle via Instagram, followed by Facebook. Northwhile, alias Diana Lukas-Nülle, is a lover of all things north, wild, sheepish, travel, design, hearts carved by nature and write. I love the way she speaks about the light, north, snow, Norway or Fair Isle… Whilst she insists how I would love Iceland. Funny how we eventually met in Shetland on her way to the Hebrides.
This intrepid north wanderer returned to an island she loves and has a pied-à-terre, as she had a contract with a knitting designer and Misa Hay to design this year’s WoolWeek Magazine. On two occasions, we met and shared by the water – in Melby, where we watched an otter playing in the bay whilst we savoured some homemade cake we found and bought from a local box; and at Ninian Sands, where we marvelled at the magic of the Atlantic, a wondrous sky, changing light and the shape of clouds… We spoke deep words, found some hearts fashioned in stone and felt the wings of the maalie, my favourite seabird the Fulmar (Petrel) I love to nickname “Jonathan”, for this long distant relative of the albatross seems to fly for fun – and sometimes at very close quarter!
Some enchanting evening we pursued at my humble hut for a splash of homemade lamb curry and a hope to see Northern Lights after twilight. Of all those moments shared, the one that prompted a poem was triggered as we walked along da shoormal (that area in the shallows…) on that bridge of shell and sand. Diana was combing in search of something specific, whilst I was gathering my own pocketful of treasures.
This prompted the following poem.
For you, D. L-N.,
for your friendship & cunning eye.
On the great bridge of sand and shell,
she untied her shoes and
walked free to
feel the pulse of each sandgrain,
blue of evening and
by the shoormal where dark sand shifts,
she imprinted her higher self,
eyed washed off
vile tides, hunting for
hearts molten in
hearts in shingle, or tidal shaped, among
plovers and sugar kelp –
what the Moon pulls in between
stars, thin waterline,
She came to walk to an island,
she entangled time in
smiled at the world’s greatest tiara,
gifted my hearth with two
her heart and mind still in
She said one day she will own sheep… She’s still to find her home island. In the meantime we share that passion for the Nordic realm – Norway, Norge – island life, light, wild & remote, hearts molten in anything natural and photography.