There’s a lot to appreciate about spring, obviously, but, for me, these moments are the ones that shift the whole feel of a week: when it’s light enough to head down the coast on a Wednesday evening and walk at John Muir as the sun is setting. That break in the week, shaking off the sluggishness that comes with hours spent at a desk. It doesn’t have to be a midweek walk: if I could drive, this would be my default walk any day. Getting in the car, driving for half an hour, and just being here. If I could drive, I wouldn’t be at my desk this evening writing this post. I’d be back here with the lads.
This place was beautiful last night. And yes, even with the scenes of devastation, even with the broken trees and the splintered tree trunks. The light was intense when we started our walk through and around the woods, and the standing trees were literally filled with birdsong. This photo was taken on the loop back to the car, along a wide path that was once lined with tall pines, the woodland dense on either side. Now, there are points, moments, where you can almost forget what has happened here, and this is one of those points. You can see the fallen trees, and if you were to zoom in, you’d note the hanging trees behind.
But here, I was simply enjoying this amber light on the brick shelter; a shelter we’ve used over the years, pausing amongst the rain-soaked pines and the dense ferns to wait for a break in the weather.
John Muir Country Park, East Lothian