The favourite part of being back in Scotland is the sea, without question. I love living in cities that have water as their integral component – Basel has the Rhein, London the Thames, Philadelphia/Manayunk the Schukyll – but nothing beats having an ocean at the bottom of your garden. Especially one that is as rough and subtle as the North Sea. I know I’ve missed it, because I can’t get enough of watching it.
Right now we’re in the middle of the Scottish winter. Over in this corner of coastal Fife we get very little snow – something to do with the salty air blowing inland – but instead we get biting winds, relentless icy rain and angry seas.
I took my camera and went down to the shoreline to try and get the perspective of scale for these ferocious breakers.
My regular readers have probably seen the symbolism in this blog post a mile off: I felt the crashing waves encapsulated my current mood perfectly. Turbulent. Those waves are relentless and systematic, landing ashore with powerful force and constantly churning up the water. I can’t tell if they represent order or chaos.
Yet there is also something cathartic in watching them endlessly rise, curl, break, plume, spray. The crashing noise they make is the sound of release. They’re beautiful and familiar. They’re part of my background, part of my story, part of me.
I love the waves.
Especially in the winter.
Updated: now with even more multi-media additions! The waves in audio & visual.