THE arrival of summer in the north isles of Scotland is pure joy. The nights are literally endless and sunsets at midnight a palette of the brightest reds, orange and yellows through to the most delicate shades of pinks, blues and purple imaginable. It's made me recall a beautiful evening scene of five years ago.
I take a walk along the quiet shore of a loch. Barely a sound to disturb the tranquility that hangs over the landscape like a soothing balm for the soul. Tiny waves lick the sand. I look out across the water. A lone rowing boat some distance away. Two figures outlined against the fading light. A pair of young lovers perhaps, whispering sweetly to each other as the rhythm of the man’s strong strokes brings him forwards, close to her. Just time enough for their lips to touch before he pulls back to move them on, almost as though he’s teasing her. Silhouetted black against the sky, now a kaleidoscope of shades of reds and orange I imagine her smiling softly, revelling in their love. On the next stroke forwards he places the oars in their rests. Right there in the centre of that loch the lovers move closer, heads come together, arms entwine as I soak up the golden glow all around, as though I and the rowers were in a world separate from that which others occupy. I follow the last yellow rays which seem to linger watchfully before finally slipping away beyond the brow of the distant hills.
© Carola Huttmann, 2 June 2004
01/06/09
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