'I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out 'til sundown, for going out, I found was really going in.' John Muir

I've seen the top of Everest (from a long way off), smelled the breath of a whale (from way too close) and lived on a boat in Greece (for a few years), but I continue to experience some of my most precious moments right outside my backdoor.

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Showing posts with label pebbles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pebbles. Show all posts

Thursday, 14 January 2016

Where have you been?

Well, what can I say but Happy New Year!

I feel as though I ought to confess..............
Dear Reader, it's been so long since I last blogged....

I've been playing with driftwood.............




Painting pebbles..........







 Waving at whales.......

OK, the humpbacks were off Nova Scotia but Dad has always wanted to visit Canada so we took him, for his 85th birthday.  

 

 

Eventually, I gave him a lesson in SLOW


Which he picked up with ease....


And now we're in the depths of a Welsh Winter, a perfect opportunity to practice being SLOW.

Thursday, 17 July 2014

Vitamin Sea

Pensarn Beach, Abergele is a fine place to go for a dose of Vitamin Sea.  It’s an SSSI, site of special scientific interest - because of its vegetated shingle bank, which is the best example of this feature in North Wales.  The smooth, rounded pebbles are all shades of grey, green, blue and plum and strewn with blue-green sea kale, silvery sea holly, sun-yellow trefoil, paper-white sea campion and sweet smelling wild roses. 
 
At the tide line, bickering oystercatchers flicker in black and white like the end of old movie reels.

Rafts of black ducks bob in the green water.  The information board confirms them as Common Scoter. They’re not that common really but they get thousands and thousands here over the winter.

I keep an eye out for the splash of porpoises.  A group of sea-skimming cormorants fly across the lenses of my binoculars, followed by two kleeping oystercatchers and a peeping ringed plover.  A small section of beach is roped off to protect the ringed plover nests and I watch a fluffy mottled chick whizzing over the stones like a clockwork toy.

Off shore, windturbines slice through the sky like circus knife throwers.
 

The pebbles are lovely to play with and before I know it, two hours have passed and it’s time for a chip butty on a bench with a view of bright plastic spades, twirling pink windmills and blue beach balls. Beaches are good places to be Slow.