There are some years that you wish would just end. This has been one of them. I had such plans to organise walks this year and was so looking forward to meeting everyone again and planning routes – but life had a different plan. I’m sorry for the lack of engagement – but I will remedy this as the year turns.
As Life hid behind a dustbin, flinging mud and old bits of rubbish at us, it was Nature who came to the rescue. Standing on the empty beach at Old Hunstanton, with the wind whipping across the Wash to slap you in the face, frozen fingers stuffed into pockets and lungs burning from the cold air, you gain perspective. The vastness of the Norfolk sky, the gulls floating overheard and the relentless, dependable ebb and flow of the waves gives clarity. Problems become smaller in that huge space.
There is so much written about being in and around water and the positive effects it has on both mental and physical health that I can only echo it. I’ve left home feeling like yesterday’s omelette and arrived home feeling like a newly baked soufflé. The bit in the middle was a swim.
July. Inland the sky was blue, the air slow and the heat rising. My swimming buddy, Jane, and I sat on the sea wall and looked out to sea. Well, we would have looked out to sea if we could have seen it. The sea fret was in, blocking out the sun and turning the beach monochrome. It wasn’t exactly cold – but with the damp fret circling around and, having not checked the tide times, having no beach to stand on – it was not inviting.
As soon as a patch of beach appeared we stepped out through the mist and into the sea. After those first few minutes of absolute horror when you go through your entire stock of swearwords until you are immersed in the water, it was magical. The waves were quite large and it felt as if we were being carried on the the breath of the sea as we rose and fell with them. All thoughts became inconsequential. You had to be in the moment and become part of the seascape instead of an observer. It was like a thorough wash of the mind and I rinsed away the bad and came out with a clean slate and a better sense of proportion.
There have been days I’ve left the house feeling like there is no point in trying to bother to do anything anymore and what’s the sense anyway, and then stood under wave after wave of Pink-footed Geese as they fly back to the Norfolk coast from Iceland. They are wonderful creatures and to hear their voices as they fly overhead and the sound of their wings – so clear that you think you can feel them brush your face – feels like a benediction.
I’ve watched Red Kites lazily drift across the Norfolk sky, been glared at by Buzzards brooding in trees and had impatient Blue Tits stare as I’ve refilled bird feeders. Everything single little brush with nature has helped me. Leaves appearing, rain falling, frost on the gates, a pink sunset, a howling gale – it all helps to ground those unhelpful thoughts into the mud. The problems which I let fester and grow Nature takes a scythe to them and cuts them back, and I’m forever grateful.
Here’s to 2024!
Norfolk Notes 