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After the storm

This morning, with the clouds sailing like great ships above us, we drove north from Cornwall. The county had just been battered by storm Ciarán, and it felt as if it was still trying to shake the wet and the wind from its coat.

The photograph above was taken just after the sun had risen. It was a bruised dawn but it turned into a beautiful day. In front of us lay the sea, green-blue and whipped with white horses, while behind us turbines and seagulls span across the sky. This was their kind of day. They danced with the elements, while we clung like limpets to the ground.

The further we drove the drier the land became. The rivers shrank, and the light gleamed, with rainbows arcing across the fields.

Now we are back, and I cannot hear the waves but I can still imagine them, and the families and dogs that will be blowing across the sand beside them.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

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Where the sand meets the sea meets the sky

Cornwall – the wind flies and waves scoop in long curls on to the sand. There are surfers out, paddling in wait of the perfect moment. Then suddenly it’s there, and they lift up quick as dragonflies to skim the white manes back to the shore.

We stand a few minutes to watch and then carry on with our walk. It’s not too hot. It’s not too cold. It’s not too wet. It’s not too sunny. Even our foot prints sink just enough, as we head on towards somewhere we’ve never been, or might have been once but can’t remember. We are undecided and unconcerned. It’s one of those days.

Our pleasure is in being out, in feeling the sun as we cover the ground in one direction, climb over the dunes in another, and then return the way we came.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

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In St Ives as Emma storms the beaches of Cornwall

The cold breath of Storm Emma reaches Cornwall

The cold breath of Storm Emma reaches Cornwall

Should we go? Shouldn’t we go? Mad to go! Mad not to go! Outside the window the snow drifts … ominous and unsettled.

“If we can get out of here the middle looks quiet.”

“No storm here yet,” they assure us in St Ives.

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