It was a glorious day here. Well, as glorious as it gets in northern Scotland. The sun was shining, it was moderately warm and the sky was blue. There is nothing to be done with a day such as this but go to the beach.
Which I did.
It was quiet: most folk are at work and kids are still in school, and I wandered about for a bit before sitting down on a bench to enjoy the view.
That’s when I spotted them, the dolphins, travelling across the sea in graceful arcs.
I may have cried.
I mean, I’m a city girl who still gets a thrill when she sees a bird which isn’t a sparrow or a pigeon. Bunnies leave me gurgling with excitement. But a dolphin? Dolphins happen to other people, not to me. But they were there, before me, at – admittedly – quite a distance. I could make out the sharpness of their black fins and the white foam of the sea where they splashed down and I longed to be close enough to hear them and to feel the spray from their aquabatics.
Today, I had to make do with snatching a few pictures so I could capture them in patterns of ones and zeros while the real things continued out to sea. They’re not of a particularly high quality, but I thought you might like to see them too.