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PER MARE PER TERRAM

Chant du monde boréal
Shoormal.
Sandshifter, 60N.
Where it all makes sense.

CHRONICLES FROM ARCANIA

Preamble

Through Chronicles from Arcania, I shall attempt to share walks with you, this poetics from 60N, where I feel at one with our Earth, my sense of place so maritime.


Friday, 5 August 2011

Hairst, harvest time...

Walkabout


In between two patches of fog, I walk the shore to a headland. The sun may smile at wild flowers, a curious wind ruffles feathers... To the many dwellers of the island, hairst - harvest time - has begun.






Through the great eye of the ocean, one bows to generosity. Fishers return with glorious tales; gulls flock to share scraps from the loot, as they linger in the harbour... To the impromptu visitor, none will vanish empty handed. 


Today's catch of haddock, cod, mackerel and whiting will bring many smiles. Summer belongs to fishermen, who dare to brave tides of the sea. Even selkies come to this feast!




Higher ahead, where currents reign, gannets flock well beyond the Roost, this area where the North Sea and North Atlantic 
come to clash for a mighty tidal embrace! On breezy days, the great headland turns into aerial  motorways, as they and fulmars whiz like wacky racers without fears. At 45 meters above sea level, they come to check the visitor on their way.  As I wander further inland, swallows grace my late afternoon sky. It is still summer as long as they stay around old barns, byres and haystacks! 


The land taints itself in purple; silage is cut, gulls fill furrows from an old plough...    Night has returned.  Hairst - harvest time - every flower bows to the wind. 
I hear skuas from the distance. This land of heath is home to many earth dwellers, birds, man and sheep. The great peatlands clad in low clouds feel so soft under every step. Between mires, where the ground feels like a mattress, the wanderer fulfills a dream and feels at one with each moment. 


To embrace this feeling of plenitude is to dare walk till the edge.  On my way to my favourite geo (a long, narrow steep-sided cleft formed by coastal erosion in a cliff)  birdsong and calls colour my day. Northern wheatears, terns and shalders (oystercatchers) still animate those August days. Soon they will wander further south. Needless to add, the great migration has already begun! 


To the great eye of the ocean, I have reached my destination. 
As I retrace my every step, I feel my place inside this home; listen to the song of the wind across my sandbridge and the land. Hairst - harvest time - in Arcania has just begun.


haiku string


Oceanic -
salt-filled wings
caught in holographic sunset.
#haiku fae 60N


Equation -
throw a pebble in the ocean,
look for the missing universe.
#haiku fae 60N

Northlore -
launch a raven high into sky,
look for your island universe.
#haiku fae 60N

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