Wednesday, January 24, 2024

Shades of grey. And red.

 It was one of our trademark grey days; the sky and the water light greys, the colours leached out of everything else. I went to Baikie Island, thinking there may have been still some snow on the ground to add a bit of light, but it had all melted into the layer of soggy leaves.

Grey, grey, grey. With hints of brown, and then ...

View from the bridge to the island.

Bufflehead female, making waves.

Alder branches bearing catkins made a tracery of black against the grey sky. From a metre or two away, though, their reds were visible; a promise of pink masses lining the shores. Soon.

Red alder catkins. Even the new stems and buds are red.

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Era uno de esos dias grises, tan comunes en la isla; el cielo y el agua pintados de gris claro, los colores de todo lo demás perdidos. Fui a la isla Baikie, pensando que tal vez habría todavía algo de nieve en el suelo, para reflejar un poco de luz, pero toda la nieve se había derretido, mezclándose con la capa de hojas viejas y empapadas.

Gris, gris, gris. Con algunos recuerdos de café oscuro. Y luego ...

  1. Vista desde el puente que da a la isla.
  2. Un porrón coronado hembra, creando olas.
  3. Y los alisos rojos hacían un encaje de ramas negras contra el gris del cielo. Pero de cerca, desde una distancia de uno o dos metros, se distinguía el color rojo de sus candelillas, una promesa de nubes color de rosa que cubrirán los bordes de los rios y carreteras en pocas semanas. Hasta los tallos y botones nuevos son rojos.

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