It feels unusual to be writing ‘after the heat’ in a title, but these few photos are from Wednesday evening’s walk at Yellowcraig, and a walk that felt incredibly good after the few days of heat that preceded it. It was a relief to be here in the quietness and the openness of this space after three days of being tucked inside, blinds down, fans on, trying to stay cool. Having DM convos with friends about climate change. Just to be here, standing below this big sky after being cooped up in one room, grateful for the breeze.
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.
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.
I’ve shared about this walk in two out of the last three posts here, which tells you something: we love this walk. This stretch of coastline between Yellowcraig and Gullane has become our favourite walk so far this year – after John Muir Country Park that is, as my second home will always hold a very special place for us.
But we keep coming back to this walk for its views, its variety – beaches, dunes, winding paths, rocky shores – and its quietness.
Where to begin when writing a blog post about peaceful scenes and the beauty of nature when faced with the trauma in our world at the moment. The brutality and horrifying inhumanity of the war in Ukraine. Watching hundreds of thousands of (primarily) women and children leave the security of the lives they’ve known; their homes, their jobs, their families; their husbands, partners, fathers, brothers, sons; leaving behind their identities, for a displaced life as refugees. As I’m writing this, there are two million people, refugees, who have left Ukraine. It’s unthinkable.