Atlantic Solstice

My family and I escaped the arctic wastes of the South East last week.  The romance of the impending white christmas had worn off after a few days of sliding around on snow and ice, rescuing stuck motorists and trying to keep out of the way of cars coming sideways down the local hills.

We headed to Cornwall for a family Christmas under brighter skies, and it was like arriving in a different country - warm, sunny, snow-free and bathed in that wild Atlantic light.

This blog has been obsessed with light lately.  It's a winter thing, I think.  The pagan roots of Christmas are all about light in the darkest time of the year:  the rebirth of the sun at the solstice signalling the start of the lengthening days.  We bring the evergreen tree into the heart of our homes and illuminate it, as a reminder that light is returning to the world.

The Cornish love their Christmas lights, and there's no end of villages lit up with reindeers and Santas.  Perhaps it's because the daylight is so impressive that the man-made lights have to work that little bit harder.

I took these photos between 23 and 25 December, on the coast between Marazion and Porthleven.  We're back in Bucks now, and not only is it still sleeting but the ice on our road never even melted.  I miss the marine depth of that Atlantic light.