Almost full light, and the clouds climbing the mountains. Almost still but once we were clear of the dwelling, just enough movement in the air to dispel the hordes of Midian that are the dreaded midges.
The cuckoo calling overhead, and the lark a constant utter sweetness.
The lanes are a riot of wild flowers. The palette is gold and purple. Gorse and flag iris. Wild orchids and rhododendrons, or as one friend calls them rosiedendrums ... a glory of colour in these spring months.
Four of my five cats follow.. Jacob comes along the lane, then sits down and will come no further. He is middle- aged now! He watches and becomes smaller and smaller in the distance as we walk on.
Boycat plods! He is a senior citizen now and entitled to go at a sedate pace; but he loves a walk. The other two are the young rescues. Smudgie is into everything. Sellkie dances. From her build and her distinctive small white spots under armpits and tail and throat, from her mannerisms and above all her voice, she is a large part oriental. Shiny, silky, small boned, smooth coated. And utterly and charmingly affectionate.
So we turn off down the narrow track to the shore, a place I have not ventured since my dog died last year. It was her favourite walk and memories are slow to heal.
But watching Selkie of the twinkling legs take off there..
Right down to the shore we went. High tide and she raced off across the rocks. Agile and sure footed and utterly happy.
New memories, new lives to cherish. Three small cats safe and incredibly happy.
A lovely start to the day, in the utter solitary peace of early morning.
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