Sunday morning saunter

I was awake in the night and the moon was casting a sharp silver fragment of light on to the floor, where the curtains were just apart. It reminded me of a poem I learnt when I was very young, 'Silver' by Walter de la Mare

Slowly, silently, now the moon

Walks the night in her silver shoon;

This way, and that, she peers, and sees

Silver fruit upon silver trees; ...

I have often wondered what 'shoon' meant and I suppose it is obvious really, if you think about it! Anyway, I looked it up and it is plural for shoes.  An archaic word.

This morning has been beautiful.  Mellow Autumn colour, a soft southerly breeze and the sunshine beckoned to Tilly and me to take a walk.  I checked the tide times and as there was going to be a good expanse of beach we went off to Belhaven.  Others had the same idea.  It is a vast beach but even so we managed to cross paths with dogs, seabirds, a cyclist and a couple of horses.

Man Friday and Mrs Friday were there, braving a bare foot walk through the chilly North Sea wavelets

and there were surfers.  Lots of them.

Above all, though, it was a walk of sounds.  Sky larks and sea birds, curlews and a flypast of geese, all with the background noise of the crash and swoosh of the waves.  A good start to my week.