A Fondness for Rocks

Perhaps you could live here, but I am sure you could not live here contentedly unless you have a fondness for rocks, or develop one. The weather here has been lovely--golden sun, calm water, fresh air. When this happens, we all head out to enjoy whatever can be done under this clear blue dome. The large photo above is from one of my favourite small harbours out west. I especially love the contrast of the pink and grey stones.

My first stop in our trek west was to Portskerra harbour, a perennial favourite. It is more often wild than docile. Even in quiet weather, the waves tend to have a grudge to work out with the shore. But the tide was well out and the rough-peaked rocks that usually take a buffeting were lying exposed like the unsutured ends of an old wound. Because it was so mild, I walked all the way down the slip way, watched the seaweed dance in the ripple of waves against the slipway and ventured into the water to collect two lovely rocks to come home with me--one so red that at first I thought it was a much-tossed brick. But much of this little corner of the world is based on Old Red Sandstone, so I decided this little guy was a chip off the Old Red block, so to speak.

Further west, if you have a discerning eye for rocks, you'll notice that the drystone dykes and buildings are made from rounder stones--bolls or land stones, Morris tells me they are called. I often take photos of textures and colours created by the rocks. I loved this rock-filled cranny in a rock wall--it's the gable end of an old building.