Behind the ebbing tide large areas of flat water lay becalmed between the slowly expanding sandbanks. The sea was quiet, the only sound that of distant waves gently rolling, soothing and calming. Hazy sunlight filtered through thin, high clouds, casting a soft subtle light. A cool breeze blew intermittently. Land, sea, sky, light subdued and gentle. A quiet day at Findhorn.
Out on the sandbanks seals, bulbous and ungainly, lay in the faint sunshine, their sad cries carrying low over the water. Cormorants hung their wings out to dry. Gulls stood silent. On the still waters ducks and a lone young swan floated, barely moving. The world felt at peace on this gentle day. Now is the season of autumnal storms, driving the sea in great waves, hammering down the rain, blowing the sand across the beach. But not today. Today nature was resting, waiting, recovering, before the next blast of the coming winter.
We wandered along the beach watching the wildlife and the views of far-off hills. Distant faint Ben Wyvis was snow-capped, lower hills just pale silhouettes. Pebbles crunched under our feet, the still wet sand was soft. In shaded areas the frost still lay. Despite the sun the air was cold, chilling fingers holding binoculars or camera. Wildlife, waves and water watched the café called – hot drinks and a late lunch. A pleasant end to a restful stroll.