FEBRUARY – A Coastal Ramble
With the forecast of a fine day ahead we decided to take a trip to the seaside. In times gone by we would frequent this coastal haven with Blue our faithful spaniel who loved this place and adored his walks along the seafront and chasing gulls along the beach. With Maverick my new companion at my side we followed in Blue’s footsteps. We decided to stop off at the Botanical Gardens to stretch our legs where we were delighted with floral displays.
It is now late February and Spring is at the door. With the lighter evenings hinting at the changes to come, I relish every sign that confirms it. From a monochrome watery winter season, the snowy milky white flowers of the snow piercers (snow drops) have had their flowering season with the aconites now in bloom, followed closely by the ethereal golden trumpets of the daffodils. With the limpid grey clouds now becoming brighter and clearer, the welcome sunshine entices the queen bumble bee from a doze of hibernation to take delight on the pollen of the early crocus now in splendid profusion. In the breath altered air I watch in wonder a flock of redpoll finches, a northern breeding woodland bird feeding on the seeds of the alder, their acrobatics is a joy to behold. From the bough of a tree close by a robin’s sweet song occupies my thoughts and I garner such beautiful tones, I felt he had landed on every note like a butterfly on a flower.
As we arrived at our coastal destination Maverick could smell the sea, the skirion winds, the cold north westerly winds which were blowing blustery onshore. The sea in the distance was rough with ‘white horses’ landing onto the beach. The seagulls’ cries were piercing as they rode the winds above our heads. It was bitterly cold, a world away from the shelter of the gardens only minutes before. Under the pier was a perfect auditorium for the starling’s song which echoed and was audible above the seagull’s cries and harsh winds.
As we begin our coastal ramble and ascend a sandy bluff, there amidst the palisade stems of the evening primrose were many linnets and goldfinches in masses gorging themselves on the oil-rich seed capsules. As I survey with curious busy eyes across the flooded land, there is an abundance of wading birds, egrets, oyster catchers, ducks, swans and flocks of geese feasting diligently on the rich bountiful diet of aquatic organisms, worms, crustatians and plants.
As we later stroll along the seafront we rest awhile sitting on a bench. As I reflect in time to when Blue was just a pup, unbridled and running free, he suddenly turned chasing the many gulls along the beach then headed for the seaside town of Blackpool. In moments he was just a tiny spec in the far distance, having ignored my frantic calls.
When worry took over me I hurriedly followed but as I sank deep into the wet mud, I couldn’t continue my quest. With tears in my eyes and vibrations in my heart I stood motionless and helpless to see him disappear from sight. As I fumbled for my phone, I looked across the sands to see him heading back towards me. I began to call his name and with stealthy pace he dropped to my feet with a belving tongue, his throat as dry as a desert thistle in May. It was at this point that I felt a hand on mine and heard an awed and hushed whisper from my dear wife beside me say, “Do you feel the presence of his youth?” The sunlit absence of Blue weighed heavy on me, the moment then vanishes, and I sink back to a common place. The verbal tributes paid to him were as plentiful as the coastal evening primrose itself and it consoles me.
However, unlike Blue, Maverick is always busy sniffing around, slow and plodding but having given him a piece of driftwood, with developing speed he pulls to the front, head in the air carrying his prized stick like antlers, becoming suddenly powerful and the defender of his herd. Maverick loves the feel of sand on his feet and makes a stealthy pace back to the end of our ramble. As we leave this magical place and head for home, and darkness began to fall the nipping air took our breath and the sky became velvet black, spangled with a myriad of twinkling stars, with light from the loadstar showing bright. And Maverick you may ask, he lay in sleep in sweet content, a perfect sloth in limb and mind.
