Living so far from any ocean or sea as I do, I have forgotten the many different hues this force of nature takes. I content myself with rivers and brooks, a lake or pond. These too take the colours of the day, transform them to and fro, but one has to calculate angles, time, position, not always possible when edged by a field with a bull for example...
This essay is filled with an enviable deliciousness of positioning to not only see but to be overwhelmed, I loved every word! Thank you for sharing...
We spent a long weekend in the desert, where surface water is a reservoir under a clear blue sky. The PNW had record-breaking rain while we were gone. Last night was calm and still enough to hear two great horned owls calling to each other, although I heard a little rain on the roof later. I'm looking forward to seeing the Sound once the sun comes up.
That was a fascinating look at the colour of water - it made me realise that I don't ever think of water as a definitive colour - you're right that it constantly shifts. Your work in progress looks great!
Interesting that this just popped up today after I shared that I could just drive around photographing the light on water. It's one of my favorite subjects to photograph.
Absolutely loved this piece, I could get lost in the depths if it. Very glad you reshared it or I would have missed it! Ps I'm new to Rebecca Solnit's work but isn't it just beautiful?! I love how you weave her and Alice Oswald's perspectives in with your own.
Rebecca Solnit is THE BEST! Isn't it wonderful to freshly discover a writer you really love and find they have already written a ton more books to dive into. Let me know when you're back in Orkney. I can lend you some. I'm loving your posts too, Rebecca!
It is the best thing! ah thank you so much that would be amazing - I’ve just got back to the islands, I’ll ping you a message soon so we can organise meeting!
Lovely thank you, your artwork is wonderful. I’m living by the Mediterranean at the moment and it is the most glorious blues. We’re heading to the UK soon and I’m going to miss the sea so much!
Thank you Rita! Ah yes, the Med has those glorious blues, but you’re never very far from the sea back in the UK, even if it might feel like it…I hope you can manage to get a blast of Atlantic air from time to time!
21/8/2024 Yes, Samantha, I missed this mesmerizing essay the first time around. Thanks ever so much for choosing it for today. My buggered red-green color perception wasn’t entirely helpful, yet your own words and those of others proved beneficial. I hope joy has found you on this getaway adventure!
I lived overlooking Lake Malawi for two years, and loved to watch how the colours of the water changed almost by the minute, in indescribably beautiful shades.
I remember, growing up (particularly in the second house we lived in, in Stenness), always taking time out of my day to stare at the waters, whether the burn of Ireland, Scapa Flow, or out beyond Hoy Sound to the Atlantic beyond--it was never the same. Even when I was young I would appreciate that, so how could I not now? When we moved to Deerness I found the North Sea by comparison staid, quiet, grey and somehow tame, even in the wildest of storms.
Many thanks for this, I'm a real fan of words for colours at all times but, when applied to a subject like this it is poetry and lush magic all at once.
Lovely to meet an other Orkney Substacker - even if you're not here at the moment! Yes those views across to Hoy are always magical, always changing. It's true, the North Sea is definitely different from the North Atlantic, even here where they meet and mingle. I love watching the waters between Orkney Mainland and Rousay, with the 'roosts' of the churning currents white like river rapids when the tide is running fast, and thinking of the longships trying to navigate safely through what was a main highway at the time.
It's funny, I've not lived in Orkney for a long time now but, if I was forced to name a home town, it would probably be Stromness. I think we carry the sea and salt in our blood when raised on the islands.
Those currents are hypnotic, there's a dance in them, a constant sense of realignment. I can't imagine navigating in a longship, that would have been mildly terrifying. Have you ever visited Eynhallow? I've long fancied that, probably due to Hildaland and Hether Blether as much as the archaeology.
Yes, I went across on an organised day trip and we had a walk around the archeology with Sarah-Jane Gibbon who's a specialist in the period around the time of St Magnus. It was fascinating. She really brought that period of history alive.
Ah, super! I went to school with Sarah-Jane, although I've not seen her in many years, now. My sister (one of the five), Judith knows her better now, having undertaken an Archaeology Masters at UHI. (I also read Archaeology, but at Sheffield.) One day, I'll find my own way to Eynhallow!
You can't swing a cat in Orkney without hitting an archaeologist! But then, I suppose you can't turn a stone here without finding some archaeology....!
Very true! You can't swing an archaeologist without hitting archaeology, in fact! (When I think of some of the things we found as kids now, played with, then often discarded or, in the case of old stonework, abandoned for a new play area, it makes me realise just how rich it is in material culture. Somewhere, I have a flint spearhead from the field next to our house after it was ploughed, along with lots of other pieces, including very old pottery etc.)
I live so far away from the sea that I rarely visit it, so you photos and this piece of writing are very welcome. I can look at lakes and ponds and rivers though, so water is close. Even puddles of rain have their beauty at times. You've really brought out the colours of water here and thank you for letting me see it through your eyes.
Yes lakes and ponds, rivers too - at this time of year for us at this northern latitude, when the light is slanting, even muddy puddles open up suddenly as you walk past, to reveal flashes of sky.
Living so far from any ocean or sea as I do, I have forgotten the many different hues this force of nature takes. I content myself with rivers and brooks, a lake or pond. These too take the colours of the day, transform them to and fro, but one has to calculate angles, time, position, not always possible when edged by a field with a bull for example...
This essay is filled with an enviable deliciousness of positioning to not only see but to be overwhelmed, I loved every word! Thank you for sharing...
Essays like this one are why I adore Substack. Thank you so much for this
Thank you Rebecca! It's very nice to make connections with like-minded people on here!
What a gorgeous piece of writing. Thank you.
Thank you Sabena! I owe a debt to very fine writers, Alice Oswald and Rebecca Solnit for helping me with this one!
A lovely piece, Sam. I love the light on the water this time of year. No two days are the same.
No indeed. The frost has gone overnight with a new weather front, and we're back to wind and rain and grey, grey, grey today!
We spent a long weekend in the desert, where surface water is a reservoir under a clear blue sky. The PNW had record-breaking rain while we were gone. Last night was calm and still enough to hear two great horned owls calling to each other, although I heard a little rain on the roof later. I'm looking forward to seeing the Sound once the sun comes up.
Sounds beautiful and so different from here. I'm behind on reading your posts...Time to catch up this evening, I hope! :-)
No rush!
That was a fascinating look at the colour of water - it made me realise that I don't ever think of water as a definitive colour - you're right that it constantly shifts. Your work in progress looks great!
Thanks Lynn, I hope you see water with newly startled eyes!
Interesting that this just popped up today after I shared that I could just drive around photographing the light on water. It's one of my favorite subjects to photograph.
Love the images!
Thanks Joe - and not a filter in sight! And I'm with you all the way in the light-on-water obsession...
Absolutely loved this piece, I could get lost in the depths if it. Very glad you reshared it or I would have missed it! Ps I'm new to Rebecca Solnit's work but isn't it just beautiful?! I love how you weave her and Alice Oswald's perspectives in with your own.
Rebecca Solnit is THE BEST! Isn't it wonderful to freshly discover a writer you really love and find they have already written a ton more books to dive into. Let me know when you're back in Orkney. I can lend you some. I'm loving your posts too, Rebecca!
It is the best thing! ah thank you so much that would be amazing - I’ve just got back to the islands, I’ll ping you a message soon so we can organise meeting!
Lovely thank you, your artwork is wonderful. I’m living by the Mediterranean at the moment and it is the most glorious blues. We’re heading to the UK soon and I’m going to miss the sea so much!
Thank you Rita! Ah yes, the Med has those glorious blues, but you’re never very far from the sea back in the UK, even if it might feel like it…I hope you can manage to get a blast of Atlantic air from time to time!
21/8/2024 Yes, Samantha, I missed this mesmerizing essay the first time around. Thanks ever so much for choosing it for today. My buggered red-green color perception wasn’t entirely helpful, yet your own words and those of others proved beneficial. I hope joy has found you on this getaway adventure!
Thank you Gary, yes it was a welcome blast of city life and quality time with family and old friends but I’m glad to be home to my island again!
A beautiful essay, thanks.
I lived overlooking Lake Malawi for two years, and loved to watch how the colours of the water changed almost by the minute, in indescribably beautiful shades.
Oh wow, that must have been incredible! Thank you Juliet, I'm glad my essay brought those memories back for you.
Ah, but you make me miss the ocean.
I remember, growing up (particularly in the second house we lived in, in Stenness), always taking time out of my day to stare at the waters, whether the burn of Ireland, Scapa Flow, or out beyond Hoy Sound to the Atlantic beyond--it was never the same. Even when I was young I would appreciate that, so how could I not now? When we moved to Deerness I found the North Sea by comparison staid, quiet, grey and somehow tame, even in the wildest of storms.
Many thanks for this, I'm a real fan of words for colours at all times but, when applied to a subject like this it is poetry and lush magic all at once.
Lovely to meet an other Orkney Substacker - even if you're not here at the moment! Yes those views across to Hoy are always magical, always changing. It's true, the North Sea is definitely different from the North Atlantic, even here where they meet and mingle. I love watching the waters between Orkney Mainland and Rousay, with the 'roosts' of the churning currents white like river rapids when the tide is running fast, and thinking of the longships trying to navigate safely through what was a main highway at the time.
It's funny, I've not lived in Orkney for a long time now but, if I was forced to name a home town, it would probably be Stromness. I think we carry the sea and salt in our blood when raised on the islands.
Those currents are hypnotic, there's a dance in them, a constant sense of realignment. I can't imagine navigating in a longship, that would have been mildly terrifying. Have you ever visited Eynhallow? I've long fancied that, probably due to Hildaland and Hether Blether as much as the archaeology.
So many stories in such a small space.
Yes, I went across on an organised day trip and we had a walk around the archeology with Sarah-Jane Gibbon who's a specialist in the period around the time of St Magnus. It was fascinating. She really brought that period of history alive.
Ah, super! I went to school with Sarah-Jane, although I've not seen her in many years, now. My sister (one of the five), Judith knows her better now, having undertaken an Archaeology Masters at UHI. (I also read Archaeology, but at Sheffield.) One day, I'll find my own way to Eynhallow!
You can't swing a cat in Orkney without hitting an archaeologist! But then, I suppose you can't turn a stone here without finding some archaeology....!
Very true! You can't swing an archaeologist without hitting archaeology, in fact! (When I think of some of the things we found as kids now, played with, then often discarded or, in the case of old stonework, abandoned for a new play area, it makes me realise just how rich it is in material culture. Somewhere, I have a flint spearhead from the field next to our house after it was ploughed, along with lots of other pieces, including very old pottery etc.)
Thank you for beginning my day with all this gorgeousness. I am spilling over... ✨🌕
I'm so glad you enjoyed it! Today's a day of a thousand greys, wind and rain...
Gorgeous.
It is easy to breathe deeply while listening to this.
Thank you.
I live so far away from the sea that I rarely visit it, so you photos and this piece of writing are very welcome. I can look at lakes and ponds and rivers though, so water is close. Even puddles of rain have their beauty at times. You've really brought out the colours of water here and thank you for letting me see it through your eyes.
Yes lakes and ponds, rivers too - at this time of year for us at this northern latitude, when the light is slanting, even muddy puddles open up suddenly as you walk past, to reveal flashes of sky.
The acrylic washes are exquisite and such an enriching piece to read.
Thank you Deborah! Today the sea is grey grey grey…but in that grey, so many nuances.
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