There’s always been something special about this place after the rain. In the old days, before Storm Arwen, the woodland felt heavy with rainwater, each individual pine needle of each individual pine branch holding a droplet, together making millions and millions of droplets of water gently held aloft by this wood. I always admired the way the tree trunks were blackened by the rain. It gave this woodland a different hue, a different mood; quiet and still and heavy and beautiful.
I started this week, the first week of this new chapter, with a plan of blog posts, Instagram posts, and batches of photos to edit. But, as it turned out, my brain had other ideas. On Monday, an email popped in with a fantastic house, reminding me that on any other week of the last 20+ years I’d have been chasing it for this Sunday’s paper. Emailing the PR, getting the photos in, getting the contact details for the owners, chatting to the owners, writing the feature. Each step in the process feeling familiar and normal.
My previous post was titled Last Light at North Berwick, while this one edges just along the coast to the neighbouring beach with a last-light walk at Yellowcraig from Sunday evening. And, for readers who are on the subscriber list to this blog, this is a ‘hello again’ post. It’s been a while. I removed the subscriber list when I stopped writing about interiors here, but as I’ll be spending more time on the blog now (and I’ll explain why in a later post), I wanted to add the subscribe option again for anyone who’d like to follow along with these walks.
We used to walk regularly at North Berwick, and usually along this western stretch of the beach that starts beyond the rocks at West Bay heading in the direction of Yellowcraig. And then, somewhere between 2020 and 2021, this beach started feeling too busy for us. Just too many people around after all the distanced days. We sought out the quieter walks along the stretch of coastline between Yellowcraig and Gullane, or at John Muir Country Park. So it’s been a while since we were last here.
I can’t quite believe that we’re half way June and racing towards the longest day of the year. All winter, from the day when the clocks change back an hour in October, I’m counting down to longer days and evening walks. After the winter equinox, I watch the sunset times shift on the Tide Pro app, every day giving an extra minute or so of light in the afternoon. I didn’t think about this as a child. I never really thought about these seasonal shifts through my twenties or even in my thirties. It was just all part of life. Yet somehow, I’m now fixated by daylight. In winter, by the lack of it, and as we approach midsummer (too fast), by the fact that these minutes of light are about to start slipping away from us again.
So we are making the most of these evening walks. Walks like this one from two weekends back, when we started at Yellowcraig and headed west towards Eyebroughy and beyond.