I do love silence, well, silence from human noise at least. This evening was so quiet that I could hear the almost imperceptible sound of the rising tide creeping up the shoreline, spilling into tiny ripples in the sand banks and flooding into small sand pools. As often here on the Afon Menai, I could hear the isolated sounds of two waders, a solitary Oystercatcher flitting over the surface of the strait, and a Curlew feeding on the rapidly disappearing shoreline.
It was yet another dull summer day, wind, rain and eventually a heavy, deadening mizzle, and yet there was also a delicate beauty about the subtly changing scene. The grey sky-blanket wasn't really solid, but an ever-morphing backdrop of monochromatic tones, more like a vaporous dance of silks on a washing line.
Once again I sheltered under a huge brolly, a dark, warm cove of protection from the elements racing in from the open sea to the West. The landscape became a view, separated from me until I lowered the brolly and felt the full effect of wind-blown rain on my face, smacking me back to reality. It was hard to believe such a pastel scene could exist within the wintry elements all about.