I walked out this morning along the edge of the receding tide, wet sand gritty between my toes.
The sun was shining but the shifting air held a hint of winter, a certain coolness that wasn’t there last week. Autumn in the Highlands comes early.
The three resident boats bobbed at their moorings, settling gently into the sand as the water fell away beneath them.
The long haunting cry of the curlew hung on the air, above the squabbling whistles of the oystercatchers. Further along the shoreline, a group of black-tailed godwits sank their long beaks quickly into the sand, again & again, seeking salty morsels for breakfast.
Away across the water, the lighthouse glinted in the early morning sun, but behind it, clouds were gathering. The mountains on the horizon were shrouded with a mass of grey, & rain was falling over the bridge. I could see the cloud leaking out its cargo as it moved slowly down the water, towards me…
The dog was running, nose to the ground, following enticing scents across the sands, pausing now & then to ferret under a pile of seaweed. Her white tail wagged continually, a visible measure of her excitement.
We came back as the tide turned, and turned our thoughts to breakfast….