|Danger averted, storms dodged
||[Jun. 21st, 2017|05:02 pm]
I mentioned, , when I described my walk on Monday, that I had seen an allegedly dangerous tree in the churchyard. Here it is:
I said at the time that it didn't look all that dangerous to me, but apparently someone decided that it was not to be trifled with, because we passed that way again this morning, and it has been dealt with severely:
I can hardly keep up with the hectic pace of life here in the country.
Yesterday morning, helenraven and I walked to the end of the road and out onto the Nature Reserve, turning right along the edge of the reserve, following the field boundary, while helenraven told me about her reading of the Hugo nominees, and I took photographs of orchids. The orchids were abundant, which was a pleasant surprise. I had been afraid that as summer comes hotter and earlier, we would increasingly arrive too late to see them, as has happened with the thrift. I'm sure that when I started to visit Lindisfarne at midsummer, we would drive onto the island through a carpet of sea pinks on either side of the causeway, but now by the time we arrive, the thrift is over. "'The thrift is over'", said helenraven. "Is that this 'end of austerity' I keep hearing about?" But the orchids were in fine spiky health, and end so were the yellow flags in the pool by the bend in Crooked Lonnen, which we passed on our way back, after sitting for a while in the sunshine by the pyramid on Emmanuel Head.
That was the most exciting thing that happened to me yesterday. I did a certain amount of going out and shopping, gathering supplies for dinner, checking on what has changed and what hasn't: the Island Stores is still there, but the Post Office has moved (to premises with a conservatory attached, as their catering / café business has expanded, the souvenir on sale at the mead factory are as entertaining as ever, and so on. There was a congenial evening, with food and drink and people, and an early night because of wanting to be up early to mark the Solstice sunrise. Mark it, though probably not see it: the forecast was for heavy rain, and we discussed whether to observe it from the patio behind our house, or simply to look out of our various bedroom windows.
When the alarm went off at quarter to four, though, it was somehow still not raining, and somehow I found myself drifting, a little late, down the road to the Castle. Over on the left, the sky was full of pink and red streaks:
This is pretty much due north, and not the rising sun itself, which should be just north of east - and indeed, by the time I came to the shore behind the castle, there was the faintest line of pink in the pearly grey of the cloud cover. That must be it, then. We talked a little to three people who had come up from Oxford for the occasion, and wondered what to do now; we told them that when we were younger we would have set off on walks around the island, or gone to Eyemouth for breakfast, depending on the tide, but right now we were going back to bed.
It wasn't until durham_rambler and I had deposited helenraven at Berwick Station and were heading back to the island that the threatened thunderstorm broke at last - or maybe we just drove south into it. There were bolts of lightning, closely followed bu thunder that we could just about hear above the rattle of rain on the roof and windscreen. The rainwater was pooling at the end of the causeway, so that we drove onto it with a great splashing, though the crossing itself was almost dry - we were in good time for the tide. It was still raining heavily when lamentables and abrinsky arrived, but by the time we had revived ourselves with coffee, it had slowed enough for us to risk going out to look round - and I have very much enjoyed our day visiting the priory, and the lifeboat house, and eating lunch at Pilgrims ("Coffee!! Roasted HERE in our yurt" - coffee highly recommended by those who indulged. I may need to return), and back up onto the Heugh to visit the archaeologists, and climb the lookout tower, and take photographs of the harbour (lobster pots! piles of rope! cobles!)... And actually, when I put it like that, I no longer feel such a wimp about deciding that I had now had enough, and needed to come home and sit down for a bit.
So that's what we did.
This entry cross-posted from Dreamwidth: comments always welcome, at either location.