A grey day, high summer

Like yesterday, today began dull and misty, the low cloud blowing from the sea, and the oat fields shading from dusty golden yellow to grey as they vanished into the distance.

Spattering mizzle (mist and drizzle combined) released a long-forgotten scent of damp vegetation, after months of dry weather. Smell is a strongly evocative sense, and damp dead grass and dusty straw brought past summers to mind: memories of haymaking and walks though the fields. Almost like the momentary feeling of “other” you get on waking, as the tatters of your dreams slide away when faced with reality – a fleeting sensation that evaporates even as you think of it.

So, a walk by the sea didn’t seem too promising, looking more like winter than summer.

A grey day in August

However, I was pleased to see the entrancing swirls of seaweed washed up all along the strand, an echo of the lapping waves as they receded down the beach. These little tableaux of marine life – jewels on a backdrop of whispering water echoes – brightened my day no end.