Rockcliffe, high tide.

Rough Firth, high tide. Rain hasn’t quite reached across yet but has misted over Almorness peninsula and Rough Island. The shore grasses look warm and vibrant against the pale headland. Waves are crashing against the shore rocks, white froth over churned silty brown water. A minute later it starts to spit. The rain brings the smell of earthy summer grass, as I head back across the fields.

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