Autumn

These things are early autumn.
The harvest moon in a clear sky.
Orion the hunter and his dog on the eastern horizon.
Red rose hips .
Black berries in bird filled bushes.
Swallows on lines in the sky.
Blue sky and sunshine warmer than summer.
Spider webs heavy with dew beads.
Seal song and pups on the stone beach.
The scent of winter.
Hay bales and stubble fields, gold in the evening sun.
Bright pheasants.
Arrows of geese high in the blue.
And the bracken dresses itself in ginger.

And even though She walked to the seal beach she forgot the lense that makes the seals look closer. But we did see Glyn today and her looked so well in the warm sunshine that was warmer than any of the days of summer.
Soon it will be his birthday.

Blue sky, early morning, seal pup day.

A blue sky morning. Up the green lane, a tree tunnel to the high hill top. Today we go to look for seals. And sure enough, on the pebble beach, one pup, wrapped in white fur with a sooty nose. And in the water, his mother, lifting to the gentle toss and sway of the sea.

And the sea and the sky so blue.

A long walk, along the early morning coastal path. Out at sea the gannets dive, pure white arrows. Below them porpoise rise to cut through the roof of the sea. For a while I ride on shoulders, then down to walk through the honey scented purple heather.

On the way home I walk the bone white lichen covered wall that leads along the green road to Maes y Mynydd where the ghost cats dwell.

A good walk. A long walk. And good to know that the wheel of the year is turning with heather and seal pups and porpoise and harebells.

The Dogs' Big Beach Adventure

Because we cats are still full of sneezes we are not walking at the moment and so the dogs went to the beach. The tide was out, far far out as the moon is full and pulls at the water. They ran on the sand in the sun and the sea, through pools and into the caves. At the very end of the beach where few people go as the sea seldom pulls back so far they ran into the deep, dark cave where the sea dragon lives, and out again so quickly, chase by a hissing and a spitting, they swam back through the pool and onto the sand. A seal pup had sheltered inside the cave at high water, was snoozing and waiting for the tide to come in. She was beautiful, grey speckled like stones on the beach, great eyes and whiskers, relaxed once she had chased the dogs from her refuge. So She took some photos, and you can see more on Her website, at the bottom of the page, here.
Beautiful seal. They left her in peace and played more on the sand, came home all tired ad kissed by the autumn sunshine.

Watching the seals.

The seals have gathered now and we walk over the hill every day to watch them on the stone beach. Great grey seals rest on the pebbles and more swim and hang in the water just off shore. There are pups too. We can hear them call, and the sound makes the hair rise on the back of our necks.




The seals are all colours, dappled like sunlight and shadow on a pebble beach. As they dry their fur changes colour. Their eyes are large, their whiskers long.




The pups were only born yesterday, one this morning. Their heads are large and their fur does not fit them, but hangs a little loose like a too big coat.

Listening for seals

We can hear the soft music of the wind through the grass.
We can hear the waves gently turning pebbles that roll smooth on the beach below, sorting them with fingers of waves, polishing them with water.
We can hear the piping alarm calls of the orange beaked oyster catchers as they rise and fly low over the slate gray water.
We can hear the rattle of the breeze in the bones of the dry bracken.
We can hear a thin waterfall as it tumbles to a small pool in the stones of the beach, fresh water mixing with salt.
We can hear a distant buzzard high, circling in the slate dark sky, searching.




A seal waits in the water. The first of the females, sleek head and beautiful, large dark eyes and white whiskers. The first of the gathering.

The month of the gathering of seals

Early morning light muted by a layer of clouds. It is the month when the seals gather. Over the hill we walk through the golden grass and down to the cliffs.




The sea is calm and the water clear, deep prussian green. No seals yet on the beach, but in the water a bull seal swims, claiming his territory, waiting for the others to come and pup on the rocky shore.




He ripples the sea surface in circles as he hangs, lazy in the sunshine.