Isles of Scilly, England
Gray. Even the word has a neutral ring. So to say the day was painted with shades of gray would make it sound dreary and uninteresting. But that was so far from the truth that further explanation is needed.
The morning started with soft tones. The gentle swaying motion of the ship mimicked the motion of the charcoal sea. Clouds progressed above from pale gray to lilac and then to silver flecked with smatterings of blue. With this brightening of the sky, the waters metamorphosed to pewter. Sheets of rain undulated across the horizon like the roaming curtains of a nighttime aurora but in shades of gray. Only on the rare occasion did the droplets fall on us. How strange to have a horizon so broad that one could watch the weather come and go. And that we did.
The Isles of Scilly have quite a reputation. Standing at the farthest reaches of England's western shores they appeared to us this morning as little more than flat and rocky reefs, the kind that lure unwary vessels to wreck and ruin. Reviewing the history of these islets we find that this too often has been true. A stop in the Museum of Valhalla brings reality to words. Silent yet elegant figureheads wait for ships that will sail no more.
When the sky is overcast, the real colors of the world show through. There is no glare to wash away reality and replace it with pale and pastel hues. So it was the perfect light to view the floral rainbow flaunting its finery in Tresco's Gardens. Before we even set foot on its shores, the purple haze of heather caught our eyes. Mixed with bracken, green and brown, the colors seemed unreal. Balls of blue, Agapanthus flower heads, peeked through flaxen grasses gently swaying in the breeze. Within the ancient abbey grounds botanical ambassadors from countries far away introduced us to their homelands with a colorful display. Amongst the flowers were hidden fragments of man's creation, symbols of hope or joy or quiet contemplation. The diversity was such that somewhere, somehow, within the garden or on the surrounding trails each of us felt a moment when our hearts were filled with joy and we inwardly danced with the "Children of the Garden."
Gray. Even the word has a neutral ring. So to say the day was painted with shades of gray would make it sound dreary and uninteresting. But that was so far from the truth that further explanation is needed.
The morning started with soft tones. The gentle swaying motion of the ship mimicked the motion of the charcoal sea. Clouds progressed above from pale gray to lilac and then to silver flecked with smatterings of blue. With this brightening of the sky, the waters metamorphosed to pewter. Sheets of rain undulated across the horizon like the roaming curtains of a nighttime aurora but in shades of gray. Only on the rare occasion did the droplets fall on us. How strange to have a horizon so broad that one could watch the weather come and go. And that we did.
The Isles of Scilly have quite a reputation. Standing at the farthest reaches of England's western shores they appeared to us this morning as little more than flat and rocky reefs, the kind that lure unwary vessels to wreck and ruin. Reviewing the history of these islets we find that this too often has been true. A stop in the Museum of Valhalla brings reality to words. Silent yet elegant figureheads wait for ships that will sail no more.
When the sky is overcast, the real colors of the world show through. There is no glare to wash away reality and replace it with pale and pastel hues. So it was the perfect light to view the floral rainbow flaunting its finery in Tresco's Gardens. Before we even set foot on its shores, the purple haze of heather caught our eyes. Mixed with bracken, green and brown, the colors seemed unreal. Balls of blue, Agapanthus flower heads, peeked through flaxen grasses gently swaying in the breeze. Within the ancient abbey grounds botanical ambassadors from countries far away introduced us to their homelands with a colorful display. Amongst the flowers were hidden fragments of man's creation, symbols of hope or joy or quiet contemplation. The diversity was such that somewhere, somehow, within the garden or on the surrounding trails each of us felt a moment when our hearts were filled with joy and we inwardly danced with the "Children of the Garden."
