Field writing wardie bay
30 Sept 10.37am
Tide going out – low tide is at 12ish
A heron is out on the rocks, I think it’s a grey heron, there have been 3 here at a time this week. Flat, grey skey, muted, cloudy, miserably beautiful. I feel clouded, I have PMT which send me into an anxiety spin. Turnstones feeding on the rocks. A boy and this father play by the tides edge. I imagine them submerged underwater.
Browns and greens, mostly browns, the seaweed pops as you stand on it. What do the Turnstones feed on? I want to be closer to them. A man strides towards, eager and smoking a thin cigar. The sound of the traffic rumbles on behind, reminding me of the cause of rising sea levels. The eager man does a fast lap of the beach, the Turnstones hustle about disturbed. The man is white and balding, he is wearing a cap so its hard to know for sure. Another white man with a cigarette ponders the shells. Are these relics from the future? The shell man pushes some phlegm out of his nose.
Do the Turnstones feel the change? Do they know that they may be moved? Do they adapt?