The Storm House
There is something wild and rebellious about getting outside along the coast during the autumn and winter months. You see the landscape in such a different way compared to the gentler softer months of summer.
Wrapped up in layers, head bent against the bracing cold winds rushing past you as the crunch of sand and pebbles move underfoot. Stormy seas churning and frothing like demons riding the waves. It no longer seems to entice you to dip those bare fresh limbs into its watery depths to bathe and splash and delight in its salty world.
Mountainous dunes of grass bow sideways from the element of wind, which beats against them so strongly they feel they will never stand upright again. Yet rooted firmly they sway a silent rhythm, swish, sway, swish.
Dwellers living near these shores are hardy and practical folk who are fearless against the seasons of nature knowing her cycle like a sailor navigating by starlight. Deep lined skin weathered by brisk walks and sunny days. Hands knotted full of vitality and strength with eyes that sparkle from the joy of life amongst her salty bay.
The Storm house offering seafarers and walkers a glimpse of comfort and warmth, a beacon of shelter to rest and refuel before heading onwards around her craggy cliffs and narrow paths. As the light fades and night falls the warm glow of light emits out and brings a sense of comfort to those passing by.
I took this image during the recent Storms that hit Wales and it evoked within in me a story. Sometimes a photograph makes a connection or repulsion and begins a dialogue with you. I'd love to hear from you as to what this image makes you feel.