'Imagination will take you everywhere'
A storm was brewing.
The house sat squat on the hillside. A dirty white 1980s building engulfed in grey. The Atlantic swelled and crashed below; the wind catching the white horses as the waves broke. Spray and mist merged into one, soaking the row of houses which look out to Puffin Island.
And then the rain started.
Horizontal bullets whipped the windows, while the gales howled. At the bottom of the garden a rusty gate wobbled on its hinges, a few feet beyond it, the cliff dropped down to the sea. Through the window an orange warmth glowed; a fire was lit and a labrador curled up beside it, oblivious to what raged outside.
A blustery night turned into a windswept day, crisp and clear. We walked along the headland to the sandy beach – running to the sea as if the salt water could wash away our worries. Returning to childhood as we splashed and dashed across the rock pools. The light gave the wet sand a silvery sheen, reflecting the clouds above. There was the pungent smell of seaweed and the shriek of a seagull.
Back at the house, we sat and watched the waves roll in, and the brave surfers dancing atop the crests.
The sun had risen on the other side of the hill, bringing with it a haze of pale pink. Over the ocean candy floss clouds smudged the horizon. The sky looked like it had been tie-dyed: deep violet fading into pastel pink, highlighting the rolling waves which gently broke on the rocks below.
We followed the coastal path, watching the sea and the sky as they both paled to blue. The perfect Cornish morning.
We reached the summit of the hill just in time to see the sun dip behind the fields on the opposite side of the estuary. Despite the clouds, the sky turned a vibrant orange, then a deep, almost fluorescent pink. The sea was molten gold, shimmering as the waves rippled.
Our cheeks flushed pink as we surveyed the view and savoured the calm. Soon the fiery tones dissolved and dark grey dominated the heavens. The sea was silver as we walked back across the bay, the water catching our feet.
December in Cornwall.