Jamie Limond, Pennant 737

I see the rings and line of concrete that evoke geoglyphs these man made scars are signs of a secret past. Nature more slowly here, the environment is hash, it appears desolate, dystopian. Life struggles to eke out an existence, yet hard brambles, gauze, Sea Pea and Sea Kale cope with the impoverished nutrients and the saline air. Yellow horned Poppies flower and teasels quiver in the fresh onshore breeze. Entropy wreaks its silent havoc whilst Widgeon take to the air, their call distinctive rings out, the ness’s  clarion call. Seal bask in the winter sun and hares scamper in the salt marsh samphire.