Seasons of the Sea

 

Seasons of the Sea

 

Springtime found me by your shores in the stubbly marram grass. I picked cowslips, ladies’ fingers and clover, holding the stems so tightly that the sap oozed from the stems leaving my hands wet and sticky. The sound of your waves lapping on the beach, close and comforting,helping me in my task.

The deserted stretch of cliff top pasture above gives refuge to the thousands of sea birds homing here.

When Summer came, it brought with it the invasion of fair weather trippers with their swarms of children making incessant noise. I resented their intrusion and scorned their excitement as they ran to your water’s edge, screaming as you touched them if they dared to venture too near. I kept to the secret places – the caves and niches which were ours alone and waited for the twilight to have you to myself. Then, I could be engulfed by your swell and float, undisturbed, in and out of the rocks.

 

As the weather changed and Autumn’s chill kept visitors away, evenings were spent building fires near your shallow edges, with driftwood that you had let escape from your clutches. Luscious meals of tiny boiled shell fish were prepared in old tin cans. Occasionally, small children attempted to make sandcastle out of soft shingle. I looked with disdain on their creations and gloated when they collapsed any refused to hold any form.

 

And then winter came. Frost glistened on the green moss covering your rocks making it glistens as if a magical carpet. Again I had your attentions as the only other visitors were the lone dog walkers, who followed a well worn route with head bent against the spray. Majestic waves deafened, but still we shared our time.

 

When my adolescence caused the world to turn against me I found solace in your company. I screamed my anger at your tides which complemented the violence within me. At other times my desolation sought company with your bleak waters, grey and unmoving. Together we wrote songs of freedom and poetic injustice.

 

Soon, life took me away from your shores, as far inland as I could be.  Although I was consoled by the countryside surrounding me, forest and hills could not compensate for your vast openness. I yearned for the relentless scream of the gulls and the feel of the salt breeze to blow away my sickness. I longed for icy blasts of northerly wind to lash my face and sting my eyes till tears flowed freely and washed away the lump in my throat which choked me.

 

And now, when I return, you do not seem to recognise me, nor I you. Still, increasingly, your rollers pound the beach wearing away the headland with each tide. Still you catch the sunlight and throw it back as if to blind your watchers.

Those who scamper across the sands are my children’s children, screeching as the waves try to touch their feet. Eagerly they search for precious shells to stuff their pockets, stopping in annoyance at the shingle in their shoes.

 

As my gaze drifts from the children’s games across the water to the far end of the bay, I stand mesmerized. Some way off, a young girl alone, picks cowslips, ladies’ fingers and clover, clutching them tightly as the sap oozes from the stems …