A Windy Day in Connemara by Mari Fitzpatrick

The tide was rolling. Like a metronome the earth’s heart pulsed with a comforting presence that underscored the wild chaos that swept through the wind; its pendulum marked the passage of moments that counted out the speed of the waves as their steady cadence sent salty foam flying through the air.

A silent tick tock tick tock threaded through the relentless advance and retreat  unfurling might and strength  to fall  break and speed through pools  spuming and casting froth that lit on the sea-gull cries and as they fished for their supper  they cruised  surfed  dived  and lifted again with wings like outstretched sails that balanced form as they scanned the sea with flint coloured eyes; a gaze that pinpointed the flashes of silvery scales that gleamed in the deep.

They descended with precision  with effortless grace. Masters of the elements  they fished the waters as wind gathered an orchestra of sounds and scents that rose to shout encouragement and whisper welcomes.

With each gust  it carried the salty tang of the sea  the earthy aroma of seaweed  and the sweet perfume of wildflowers  and as it ran up the shore invisible fingers painted the sand with shards of cut-glass light. Casting patterns of shadow and illumination that stirred a symphony of movement to choreograph a ballet of nature’s own creation.

Rising over the bay  a peach painted lighthouse offered a warning to the ships and local sea traffic. Positioned on a promontory  its imposing presence promised a telling of tales that waited to be unveiled in cozy  story nights. No longer manned  its lonely demeanour illustrated an expanse of churning memories. It served as a natural lookout point that was set at the end of a stack of grey and cyan  slate  coloured cliffs —the nearest one accessible from the beach. It had a topping of loose single that ran down onto the sparking  diamond crushed shells that littered the stony ground and rock pools.

Viewed from its base  through a flashing sun  it appeared to grow up and out of the beach like a man-made heap of a sugar mountain that was built to lean against a high wall. But it was illusory  just a safety measure to stop people from climbing up or down its face as its body backed onto and curved around the land mass to support the high road that was carved onto its summit and served as a bridge between the local villages.

From a point on this scrubland. a lonely  skinny  green bush grew to enclose a small caved space and from behind it a deer stepped out. Its magnificent antlers stretched high. Tines that resembled a human hand  that imaged a tree of life branched out from a centre beam. Its shimmering coat juxtaposed alongside soft brown eyes that were rimmed with glorious eyelashes; this magnificent creature knew this scape  knew where to hunt for food  knew the easy paths. He stood tall and strong in this small space that curved around the end of the bay where he'd spent many an hour following the human footprint. He knew the scent of sea and the taste of nature. Angling his head  he sniffed a spore  looked up the beach  saw the man walking alone  head covered and bent into the wind. He paused momentarily before stepping-up onto the shingle  there he checked his path upwards and as loose stones rattled and slipped down the incline he climbed towards an private observation post  where later  as night closed in members of his pack would join him. As he turned to face the sea  he sat  waited and watched until the man walked under his viewing post  picking his steps over rock pools that mirrored scudding clouds; walking to the end of the beach; relaxing in the beauty of the seasons' bark before turning for home.

Then as the sun painted the sky in fingers of pink and gold  the gulls returned  weaving between rocky outcrops and narrow crevices to reach nests that were built into the sheer rock face. As they landed they were greeted by the chirping of hungry chicks  their mouths open wide in anticipation of the evening meal. With tender care  the adult gulls fed their offspring. It was a scene of familial devotion amidst the sometimes harsh beauty of this coasta landscape  and a reminder of the bonds that unite all creatures in the web of life.



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