...Seahouses

Our holiday in Northumberland came to an end on Saturday. It's lovely to be home, where everything is familiar and comfortable and I've enjoyed sleeping in my own bed and relaxing back into my own space...

...but it broke my heart just a little to leave the beach behind. I honestly think that if there's a heaven it will be like that beach - just a wide expanse of mother-of-pearl sky, water and sand stretching as far as the eye can see. 

We arrived just before the sun went down on Monday, picked up the key and headed straight across the road to the shore. The sun was setting behind the sand dunes at our backs, creating an incredible peach/pink/violet glow (reflected/refracted?) in the sky above the sea which was just breath-takingly beautiful. 

The following morning we were up in time to enjoy a spectacular sunrise. Because the beach is so flat the out-going tide leaves a thin film of water on the sand which perfectly reflects the colour of the sky like an enormous irridescent mirror. I loved the textured polka-dot effect of worm casts in the sand and the random seaweed collages scattered along the high-tide line. 

A stroll along the road into the village at Seahouses was followed by a return to the beach at the end of the day for another dramatic light show. My new camera made it possible to really zoom in on the Farne Island lighthouse in the distance, as well as capturing the panoramic sweep of the beach.

Let's just have a closer look at that rock in the bottom right corner - isn't it fabulous?

As a knitter, I think I'm programmed to notice texture. I was fascinated by the rippling patterns the receding tide left in the sand. The more I looked, the more I saw. No wonder traditional fishermen's ganseys were covered in intricate cables - the inspiration is everywhere!

On Friday we drove up the coast to Lindisfarne for a wander round the island. The castle is closed for rennovations, but I rather liked the dramatic effect of the intricate carapace of scaffolding enveloping it. We skirted the ruins of the Priory and meandered through the graveyard, but the blustery wind and the turn of the tide soon sent us travelling back across the causeway to the mainland.

Another evening stroll along the beach at high tide and another treasure trove of seaweed and sand art. In places it looked like there had been some kind of alien massacre - leaving organs and limbs scattered indiscriminately across the battlefield. There was a morbid fascination in noting the similarities between the root structures of these marine plants and the design of our own circulatory systems!

The pictures below were taken at the water's edge, where thin layers of coarse black sand were artfully deposited by the ebbing and flowing of the tide, creating shifting sandscapes of trees, mountains and clouds. I could have spent hours watching these images appear and then wash away. Like one of those magnetic drawing boards with the metal filings we had as children, where you drew with the magnetic 'pen' and then shook the screen to start again.

These pictures were taken on our final morning walk. I found the 'seashell of the week', with an opalescent blue lining and a muted stripy shell, took a beach selfie of our shadows along the dreamy shore, and chuckled at the seabird landing prints in the sand. The thought of home was lovely, but I had more than a few tears in my eyes leaving the beach behind.

I have an idea in my head for a free form knitted shawl/wrap, based on the Charles Rennie Mackintosh lines in the sand patterns below. It could take a while to come to fruition, but at least if I put the thought into words I'm one small step closer to actualisation!