Yesterday the weather was glorious, so Harvest Festival and visits over we decided to take advantage of the sun and head off in ‘Baby’ to the Troon.
By the time we arrived at the beach it was late afternoon but the sun was still shinning brightly over Arran and the sand was warm from its attention all day. Its softness gave way beneath our feet curling over my shoes and trickling its warm grains inside them. We walked towards the sea were the sand was firmer, still damp from the receding water, then travelled along the beach following the gentle lapping waves. The sky was a gentle blue dusted in places with light clouds, one of which look remarkably like an angel keeping watch over Prestwick airport:
okay so I have a good imagination, but in the flesh it did look like an angel, even Hubby admitted it.
We made our usual walk along the beach, me taking off my shoes to paddle through the crisp but not cold water that had created small tributaries down to the sea, but soon our destination was upon us and the shoes had to go back on as we clambered over the rocks like children exploring what was in the rock pools. There were the usual clear shrimps and dog fish which could only be seen as they moved, a whelk making the long journey across its rock pool world, and lots and lots of hermit crabs, some of them quite large, but the late sun kept glancing off the water was making them camera shy. Finally however this one popped out just as I was in the right place, with camera in hand.
My thoughts returned to the service that morning, the piles of tins, tea, coffee, sugar, and chocolate bars, the harvest too of soap, shower gel and shampoo, a Harvest thanksgiving from an urban congregation. Here in front of me was a hermit crab, needing the protection of a borrowed shell to keep itself safe as it scurried across the rockpool. While St Mark’s Harvest offering would make its way to those who need help, acting if only for a short while, like that shell protecting those in need for their life on the streets. Just like that angel in the clouds above Preswick Airport they too are being over looked and cared for, by the angels in disguise which make up the congregation of St Mark’s, and countless other people who support and work in Glasgow City Mission.
As the sky started to turn to red with the sinking sun bouncing off the underside of the whispy clouds, we walked back along the now near deserted beach. With the dissapearing sun the sand had now turned cool and was not as welcome trickling into my shoes as it had been on the outward journey, while the air had taken on the crispness of an Autumnal day, it wasn’t unpleasant, but I for one was glad we wouldn’t be spending the night there. As we left the beach and the hermit crabs behind I thanked God for the Harvest, and a home to return to.
