Outer Hebrides: Signs of Tenderness

I am people-watching

Grandparents
A boy wrapped in a thick towel
After an hour paying in freezing water

A young couple
Cuddling closely
Refusing to declare defeat against the evening’s chill

Two women
Like sisters
Spending time mostly in silence
With beers
Each a tent on their own

Little girl
Carrying sibbling piggyback down the sandy dunes
Siblings legs are too short

Elderly man
Alone cannot get his tend set up
Younger man walking over
Helping

There is hope
Always hope
Where love is
No matter what love looks like

Outer Hebrides: The House

I see a house through the mist
You know; the kind of house children draw
Four windows
Door in the centre
Otherwise a rectangular box
With a roof

I wonder: is life in a simple house simple?
No fuss, no add-ons, no fancy ‘wouldn’t survive the winter-storms anyway’ conservatory
Two chimney stacks on each gable-end
The smell of burning wood
Warmth that cannot dispel the slight smell of dampness

If you think about it
A house
It’s that simple, four walls
A roof, some source of warmth, water

I am sitting underneath the canape of our tent
Four walls and a roof of sorts
But we forgot the little space heater
Also our temporary abode sways with the wind
Flaps its wings
It hums a song
I heard too often
‘You cannot escape your life choices.’

But for now things are simple

Outer Hebrides: Gale Force 10

Balranald Campground–North Uist

The weather is merciless
Our tent howls and tries to take off like a chained dragon
The noise of the storm is incredible
A rock concert of sorts

Naughty by nature

Everything moves

Even the athletic swifts have no chance and sit exhausted on a fencepost

The guiding lines vibrate with tension
Or maybe they are shivering in the relentless rain?

Our name sign is tagged into a wooden pool
the place number long gone

36

Thousands of wild flowers dance in rhythm of the gusts

A seagull is blown past the tent
She barely manages to stabilise

Summer in Scotland

I wear my woolly hat
And socks mum knitted for me
As I take in deep breaths of salty air
And listen to the deafening production

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: