Thursday morning… in my usual spot on the hill, staring out to sea, sinking this view into my memory to call at will when life returns to its normal frantic pace. I started considering the colours of the ocean, what caused the changes that swirl past my eyes moment by moment.
The sun is trying to make itself know intermittently between the thick clouds. The tide is going out and the ocean floor will be being dragged with the force of the moon. She’s still in the sky, just.
I feel, in the face of all this power of nature, the need to splash the colour across the page is immense but the words to describe it just don’t arrive and it’s like shaking a bottle of lemonade knowing the gas inside is under pressure. As I said recently to a friend struggling with the feeling of being blocked, ‘write anything, a list, a letter, just write… So here’s my rather inadequate attempt to let the gas out of my head, to describe the indescribable.
Rippling Moss Gold
Please, if your mind joins in, add to this!