February 29th, 2008Torrylinn Cairn
The settlement at Lagg is a little faded in the winter light. No visitors at the Inn, only a couple of large dogs parading outside. The post office is closed down. Although there are primroses in the window, a sign on the lampost says the post box has moved down the road. A small boat lies upturned in a yard beside the river.
In the wood, the wind flies through the trees, spooking me with its whispers. The golden remains of autumn lie on the path, even though we’re nearing spring. Gorse bushes are walloped by the wind and the rain, bright petals strewn like confetti in the path.
At the break in the path, an old green bench sits waiting.
It marks a break in the landscape. The sky opens up. The woods stops its whispering. Here the gorse bushes stand strong. The sea shimmers silver ahead.
The path runs on to the cairn at Torrylinn.
I stop to soak up the history. It’s only later I notice the colour of the stones, the perfect ending to my yellow-seeking walk.
Stained deep with yellow lichen.
This particular record of the walk was inspired by focusing on a colour - this time yellow - noticing what you see, and then writing what happened. What you find is always a surprise!
