Sunrise on Firth of Forth

November 14, 2007, 9:30 am; posted by
Filed under Articles, Chloe, Featured  | 2 Comments

There is no smell in the air, none at all. There is no lingering cigarette ash or swirling car exhaust, no rotten garbage or fetid water. And it is quiet, only the sound of the water slurping up the rocks and the wind rustling the waves like a dancing woman’s skirt. Scotland’s wind is not pushy and impatient, but mischievous, catching and teasing the tendrils of hair that have slipped my fist. Here there is respite from noxious cars and obnoxious horns, from people muttering, “Sorry,” and salesmen tugging at my sleeves. Here there are only the croaking calls of seagulls and the chatter of wind and waves.

There is a storm brewing off to the north, big and tumultuous, yellow and blue like a bruise, and when it breaks, everything in Scotland will turn greener than it was. In London, the plain almost-gray sky never quite rains, but drizzles unremarkable specks of water into unremarkable puddles of muck. When this storm breaks, the writhing clouds and turbulent ocean, the heavy blue hills ambling out of the water towards the southeast, all that will be washed in tacky greens not fit for painting. Maybe, when it breaks, the neon sunrise lurking beneath the horizon will decide to wander in.

I settle on a rock, where brine has anchored conical shells to the sides of the massive black boulder, and they scrape my legs each time I swing them back and forth with the rhythm of the tide. I face the east, where the sun will make its entrance and wrestle with the waves for the stage.

The sun rises uncertainly over the harbor, budding baby yellow on the hills, melting into confused greens and deepening shades of blue up into the sky. As it gains confidence, though, it throws out against the clouds an armory of pinks and oranges, bold and embarrassing colors to the Prussian blue ocean. The sky is flaming now, no longer shy yellows and greens, but bright shades of gold against the clouds.

And then the tides change. The clouds begin to recede. Those bullying masses were only testing the waters, looking for a reaction, and meant no harm, after all. They give ground to the sun, taking with them the chill wind and white waves, leaving in their place ripples on a placid surface, and shallow pools reflecting the boulders on which I perch. And then a final flourishing bow from the clouds splashes vibrant greens all over the opposite shore.

Scotland is green once again.


Comments

2 Comments to “Sunrise on Firth of Forth”

  1. Connie on November 14th, 2007 12:40 pm

    You and David both (I should’ve commented his last entry as well) can take me away with your words (and verse). I feel as though I’ve been on -as the Brits would say- holiday, without leaving the church office.

  2. Chloe on November 18th, 2007 6:25 pm

    Thank you!

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