Earth, fire and water

VIEW THROUGH THE LENS

As sunsets go this one was a bit understated, yet a strange phenomenon nevertheless, which had its own lonely beauty.

As I was getting my coat on at just after 3 pm to go to see if there would be a sunset, our Arnside friend Simon appeared at the door. So we both set off for the little bay at Far Arnside. It seemed hopeless, after a brief spell of blue skies in early afternoon, the cloud had gathered again. As we looked across the vast expanse of Morecambe Bay, it was obvious that the sky was not going to colour up. Then we saw a few points of light on the horizon. Simon observed that the gas rigs were flaring brightly, and we worried for a few seconds that one might be on fire. Then as we watched, it became apparent that the flares were in fact the sun peeping under the cloud before dipping below the horizon.

On the nearer broad mudflat there were a few oystercatchers feeding and piping, at the water's edge a smaller number of redshanks.

It was a bitterly cold morning today, and there was the first snow of the season dusting the high fells of the Lake District. I came home from my morning walk to see the results of this Summer's neglect of garden duties. The felt of the garden shed was flapping in the wind. I had neglected to cut back the vicious rambling rose and the Hydrangea petiolaris that had both crept up the roof. Blowing about in the recent high winds they had lacerated the felt. Emergency repairs were needed, so I spent the afternoon cutting back the curtain of vegetation and patching the bare areas.

It was happy chance that Simon appeared when he did, as I could ask him if he would be able to refelt the roof as I won't get another chance to do it myself before Christmas. The truth is he will make a much better job of it than I would and in half the time.