God’s Fingers

Finally the rain has stopped and the wind has died down. Even the sun is shining intermittently - though it’s not until we leave our hillside twilight zone that we realise this. 

A walk along the sands of West Shore calls, buffeted by the winds that still blow in across the sea, even though the force is less than yesterday. G does his brisk walk along the coastal roads, while I head out onto the wet sands of low tide. 

The huge expanse of beach lacks the reflective qualities I love so much, any standing water being whipped by wind. The sky, however, is a glorious cloudscape, threatening billows of cumulus nimbus over the Carneddau, opening up to a surprisingly blue sky. The sun alternately hides beneath the clouds, transforming the scene into an uninviting dullness, then peeps out, casting crepuscular rays onto the hills and sea - ‘God’s fingers’ as the recent camera club judge called them. I rather like that. 

Prosaically, after this it’s on to B&Q for our conservatory tree, a lovely employee helping us to choose, netting the tree and offering to carry it to the car. There was a time when choosing the tree took ages; now it’s almost an instant decision - a rare occurrence for me!