Cove
- a small sheltered bay in the shoreline of a sea.
What a difference it makes when the sun shines.
Saturday started out overcast but by the time we left here for the trip to Cove the sun had broken through. Some blue-grey clouds still tumbled over the hills and wintery squalls swept the Forth .
The warmth in the dappled yellow light made the short journey down the coast very pleasant.
Baby Naimh chortled and giggled in hand-waving delight all the way there.
Helen's and Euan's home gleamed coast-guard white against the backdrop of the sailors-trouser sky. Circling, mewing gulls drew soaring tracks across the rainbow gall.
How pleased he was that they chose to set up home here. Sad he never saw how it has blossomed in their creative vision.
Sad he was not there to share their warm hospitality - by the fireside, and round the well set table.
Or to watch the stars in the clear night air, or see the moon's perfect circle fragment into slivvers of lemon peel on the restless motion of the waves.
At least his telescope might find its full potential here. In its courtyard past the apprentice astronomer trained his eye on the firefly sparks spitting forth from our chiminea.
This dragon breath, swirling and melding into November's velvet, sequin studded black, will forever stir a scent of him.
On days like these he is sorely, silently missed.
On days like these there is comfort
in the shelter of this little bay.
3 comments:
" Mourning is not forgetting.... it is undoing.
Every minute tie has to be untied,
and something permanent and valuable recovered
and assimilated from the knot.
The end is gain, of course.
Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be made strong,
in fact.
But the process is like all human births, painful and long
and dangerous."
( Margey Allingham )
Hi Mags,
I've read somewhere that mourning takes 7 years and some say it never ends. I admire your strength in jotting down your feelings and the beauty of your words. This is the healing isn't it?
I have created my own blogspot. Do visit us at http://aidareza.blogspot.com/
Peace and tranquility down there is what I remember, and a feeling of being removed from everything except own thoughts, which gives an opportunity to think, reflect and plan. I seem to remember a large house at the inland edge of the harbour. Almost like something from an old '30's movie, probably a hotel in its time, but still there? A setting for an Agatha Christie novel. Quite the opposite of the world in which modern Rankine and Rebus roam. Thank goodness for that balancing, lasting memory which will always be there.
S and J
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