The waves crash onto the beach and the lights from the Christmas trees twinkle on the wet foam edged sand like tiny dancing diamonds I pull my hood around and dig my hands deep into my pockets as the icy air catches my breath. The green leafed garland lifts and bumps gently against the old oak door as the wind whistles through it.
I turn towards the beach and pick my way along the uneven footpath. The last of the days sunlight streaks the sky turning it purple and orange. On the soft sand my wellies make deep footprints – soon washed over by the sparkling spume. And my face, cold from the biting wind, is sprayed with salted droplets blown up from the churning waves.
The brisk wind makes me pick up the pace. I walk determinedly along the cliff path, the light fading with every step, over the slate stiles walking west into the rapidly dropping last rays of winter sunshine.
Above me I see the first glimpse of the Christmas Eve moon. The bright crescent only visible for seconds before another dark cloud skuds infront of it obscuring it’s watery light. Standing still with my back to the wind I see the first early stars. But they too disappear as quickly as they appeared. The only constant lights are the glittering trees in the windows of the houses looking out onto the Atlantic. The sea is a deep dark blue. There are no lights on the horizon tonight, no ships navigating the rugged north Cornish coast just the life saving beam from The Trevose Head lighthouse sweeping fleetingly across the blackness. The darkness is intense, the wind chilling and having reached the highest point I turn back again. Now the wind is at my back almost pushing me home. It’s dark, but having been a part of the night as it fell, I don’t notice it and with my hands still deep in my pockets I march back.
And Christmas in Cornwall has begun.
From Sarah www.chateaucivrac.com