Walk in the rainRain patterns water surface.Releasing stored aromas into moist air.Weed, mud, sea-water, treesAll heightened, rising like coastal incense.Palpable quiet, gentle orchestration -Oars dipping, fish jumping, Rooks telling each other where th
First kayak in a couple of months I made it gentle and not too long, as I paddled back I realised that I didn't want to go in just yet. The sun warmed from a clear blue sky and blinded me with sparkles. I carried on paddling into the wind until I ran out of depth at the head of the creek. Returned reluctantly and then stopped. I sat in the middle of the river in silence. Then realised how noisy my paddling had been, I listened to the spring birds surrounding me. The banks on either side rose up steeply, mostly gardens here in this most sheltered last curve of the estuary. Gardens so steep that a couple had already succumbed and crumpled onto the beach. I drifted, caught between easterly wind and outgoing tide fighting to see who would take control. This made my progress stately, the wind drifted me home. I passed the place where once, a lifetime ago, I had moored my Devon yawl. I was newly widowed, hopeful that I might one day resume sailing. I visualized the painting I had done to capture the view from my buoy and looked down the river to compare with my image. Satisfied I took up the paddle and headed for the quay.