Duck Duvet

I was in town unusually early today and stopped off at my sit-spot on the way home. Sheltered from the northerly wind it was positively balmy in the bright sunlight. All the sea birds were preening or dozing in the sun, although snow still lay right up to the water's edge.

How ruffled their feathers must have been in the bitterly cold weather, preening as if their life depended on it. It probably does.

This feather lay in the beach litter a foot away, blown this way and that by the breeze. A duck feather, I believe. All fluffy and white at one end, iridescent at the other. Its waterproof sheen only revealed after an hour of watching, when it was blown into an entirely new position. Its design is magical, the original puffa jacket. I shall think of it when I snuggle under my downie tonight.