August 2022 - On a Speck in the Ocean, Sark

I'm sitting here with the splendid beams of a late summer sunset spreading across my page, and a raging wind billowing in from the sea.  This little bench is a thoughtful spot I have visited frequently over the past month, but this evening is the last time I will see it awash with gloaming light, I am leaving the Channel Islands tomorrow.  The ocean is all aglitter.  As I've explored this tiny island it seems to me that the sea, not the land, has the greatest character here.  It rushes into caves, plays around great monoliths, warms itself on sun-baked black pebbles, and ensures that there is never really silence, it is always crashing and chattering just a stone's throw away.

But there are other companions here at my thoughtful spot this evening, besides the happy sea and the regal light, there are those most homely and peculiarly comforting of creatures, the cows.  They meander and mumble and lift their long-lashed eyes  as I pass by, contemplatively.  They are gentle, and they make me think of home.

God made the petreous rocks, the arboreal trees...
The movements of the sea, the wind in boughs,
green grass, the large slow oddity of cows...

- J. R. R. Tolkien, Mythopoiea

The gorse (Ulex europaeus) is blooming here and there, little golden clusters on ferociously prickled shrubs.  Those who have lived here for years have told me that, no matter what the season, the gorse is always in bloom, even in the midst of rainy, icy winters, or windy, late summer droughts like this one, at least one or two sunny flowers can be found. No one today seems to think of gorse blossoms as a wild edible and there is very little information about its potential uses, or potential dangers.  But an old wildflower guide claims that gorse flowers and buds, tinctured in vinegar, are an effective remedy for coughs and sniffles, and have a pleasant flavor of vanilla and almonds.

When Gorse is out of blossom, then kissing is out of fashion...

- Old Cornish Proverb

Another fiercely thorned shrub grows in abundance around this thoughtful spot, the wild blackthorn (Prunus spinosa).  Just now it is covered in powdery blue sloes, and local residents are excitedly planning the making of sloe gin to be ready in time for Christmas celebrations.  Though folklore surrounding this angry-looking plant is often ominous, the sloes have been a wild-harvest staple for centuries, and studies have shown that they are anti-inflammatory, support healthy digestion, soothe sore throats, and ease winter colds and flus.  Fairies are said to live in both these wild, windswept shrubs, kindly little folk among the sunshine-colored blossoms, and mischievous ones perched on the sharp blackthorns.

Mountain blossoms, shining blossoms, / Do ye teach us to be glad
When no summer can be had, / Blooming in our inward bosoms?
Ye, whom God preserveth still, / Set as lights upon a hill,
Tokens to the wintry earth that Beauty liveth still!

- Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Lessons from the Gorse

The sea is gushing in frothy rivulets from the cliff-sides.  As it tumbles back the surrounding water is actually turquoise, an almost unearthly color that no photograph can capture.  Its roar is deafening and cheering,  frightening and friendly at once.  The wind is strong, but it's odd how an ocean wind feels so different from that wind on the moors only a few short months ago.  Here it is gustier, unpredictable, less constant and persistent.  I leave this thoughtful spot tomorrow, and I will miss this sea.  But there is  oh so much joy in the prospect of returning soon to a more familiar corner of this glorious creation...

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

- John Masefield, Sea Fever