A fine upper reach looking towards Brandy Hole
An old sluice gate
Path on the sea wall
There are some places that are very special to an individual. One such place for me is South Fambridge. In the past I have spoken about the place here at my Blog. I like it for the atmosphere, the beauty, for the wonderful skyscapes reminiscent of Dutch scenes of a flat terrain where the sky takes up most of the view. The sky is forever changing, perhaps filled with cotton wool clouds, or shafts of sunlight radiating outwards from between gaps in the clouds; maybe there’s a dark thunderous, threatening canopy, or a black veil spilling rain which is coloured by a double rainbow. The scene is never the same.
Yesterday evening the sun was hidden, except for occasional glimpses of it through chinks in the clouds; in the distance there were hints of showers and the air felt moist and cold. The fresh smell of the river just after high water heightened the drama. The west wind was cool enough to keep my body temperature down as I walked at a fast pace. A powerboat zoomed and zigzagged through her wake while towing a trio of skiers who shrieked and shouted loudly words I’d rather not publish here. A large yacht tacked and was almost motionless as she struggled to overcome wind and ebb.
This is a place where I like to be. My imagination can run riot. I can pray and be very close to God. I can think creative thoughts and dream. I can be free. This is where I want my ashes to rest.