A blustery, squally day.
Walking around our wildlife garden today, felt more like being a drift at sea! I took the coastal path, trodden by the Badgers; they habitually coast around the perimeter of our meadow. I watched the wind eddy playfully amongst the grasses, making whirlpool nests. I listened as it whistled tunefully through the hollow stems of annual flowers, still decrepitly standing their ground, and pulled my hat firmly over my ears as it boisterously gathered energy, and roared along the hedge-bank like a rip tide. Drizzle spattered against my face like sea fret and gulls, having sought refuge inland from the stormy seashore, soared above my head. Looking down, I leant against the wind and made my way back towards the house, delighting in how it held me, I felt literally buoyant! Then, missing a step, my boot rolled across a loose stone, fallen from the sides our newly cut path. Gathering my senses, I rolled it over, and was struck by a sense of wonder, as I discovered, a fossilised seashell, etched into it by time and tide.