If you saw my previous post, then this one perhaps needs little introduction. Except that while the previous post was from a solo walk last Friday night, this is from yesterday, after another showery day when we’d hoped to get out in the evening, but then the rain settled in and we accepted that we might not be going anywhere.
I’m having a day where I’m feeling a bit under the weather, which definitely makes it harder to simply focus and sit and write, so I thought I’d come here with a blog post to simply… get words flowing. Switch my brain into that place. And to share these photos from Friday evening. We’d been planning to head down the coast, as we usually do on a Friday night to mark the close of the week and let the lads have a good long run, but the weather had other ideas. To be honest, had we felt less tired, we’d have got in the car regardless of the weather, but I left the lads and Richard at home and headed out for a local walk. A solo walk in the rain, I should say.
We drove down the coast on Sunday evening, hoping for a cooler walk after another warm day. Also, our evening walks are about quietness. We want to get to the beach when most other people have gone home, which is making these midsummer walks happen later and later in the day. But that’s okay. And Sunday night didn’t disappoint. We followed our usual route: through the woods, enjoying the dense, lush green; across the grassland that’s now scattered with wildflowers, with bursts of purple and pink; along the top of the dunes, winding along the sandy paths, which Bracken (strolling along the beach above) and Harris (below) always enjoy; and then down onto this wide expanse of sand.
I can’t recall when we started marking the summer solstice with a coastal walk – it was a few years back anyway. It always feels like a day to celebrate, if a bittersweet one to me (as I mentioned in my previous post) as while June 21 is the longest day, it’s also the turning point after which our days creep shorter again. If I had to split the year into seasons by hopefulness, the point between the clocks changing towards the end of March and the solstice is, for me, the hopeful time.
How did we get to the summer solstice already? It’s a bittersweet date: the start of summer and the longest day of the year, but I can never shake the awareness that the days will creep shorter from now on. I know, that’s a bit of a ‘glass half empty’ mentality, right? Which isn’t me! But that’s just the reality of the solstice, although thankfully it’ll be weeks before we can really feel the days shift. So we make the most of these evenings and don’t ever take them for granted, knowing that these long, long days are always too brief.