There is so much light here. I think the brown, gold, green fields have drunk the light from the sky and hold it like water. On the greyest day they seem luminous to me.
A yoga class has started in Heckington – an excellent thing for the start of a new year. It is a long time since I went to one and beginning again after a gap takes me back to other classes in other places. The very first, in my twenties, was in a huge hall in Brixton, full of people, none of whom spoke at all. I never went back.
The relaxation at the end is supposed to be the nicest part, but only in my fifties am I beginning to enjoy it. Still I sometimes find myself tetchily wondering why the teacher is visualising for us a sun-kissed beach, somewhere far away I can’t imagine.
I liked the beach in today’s class, with dunes, wild flowers and a sunset. I imagined myself not on warm sand but on a beach like those I visited last winter at Saltfleetby or Skegness.
Years ago those yoga relaxations always brought tears, as I let go of the tension holding me together. Today I felt the lightness at my core rather than grief; today I was dancing by a northern sea under a light, bright, endless sky.
This was taken from our bedroom window at about 9.30 pm. We have just moved from the back of the house to the front, seeing if early morning traffic noise (yes, there is some) disturbs us less than the noisy dawn chorus. The front of the house faces almost north, just a little west, so at this point in the year the sun goes down behind the houses across the road. Earlier in the year it was setting in the west, behind the church (see Moonrise and This too shall pass).
Picture below was an attempt to catch the very last little bit of light, at coming up to 11 at night. Looking forward to the longest day/shortest night, though with it comes the sadness of the days slowly beginning to shorten again.
The camera is pointing northwards up the coast this time; a more usual view of Skegness perhaps, with people, seagulls and funfair rides.
I listen to people speaking Polish and other eastern languages I don’t recognise. I wonder how much this beach is like the wide, sandy, (cold?) beaches of the Baltic. No pine forests here behind the beach; though more caravans than you can possibly imagine. The North Sea connects us: massive, icy, tangy, exciting and unknowable.