Waving Goodbye to Scilly
Well here we are, nearing the end of a fabulous Scilly Adventure. After just over 3 weeks it is almost time for me to be heading home, back across the sea, through the West Country, the Southern Counties of England and into dear old Sussex again.
I wonder if the woodlands have yet to turn their autumn hues, and if any late flowers in my garden still bloom. I bet the badgers have churned up the fallen leaves along the grass verge more than once, and the jays will have polished off the acorns from the big old oak behind the house by now.
Soon all the other visiting birders, those that still remain, will leave the islands, and the Scillonians will be left in peace to face the winter storms, braced like the sun-gold-flowered gorse on the granite headlands against the wind.
The storms may rage, but they will each pass, and on bright days pale shy narcissus flowers will bloom under the winter sun. On the salt-sprayed rocks, shags will balance and seals slumber.
In the summer the night air will reverberate with the magical calls of returning Storm Petrels, and Manx Shearwater chicks will totter from their burrows to stare transfixed at the stars. Boats will sail too and from St Mary's and the off islands, and the church will ring with the sound of hymns. Autumn will return when the bracken curls and crisps to russet hue. Such is the nature of Scilly.
I know I'll be back - this may be the end of my stay on Scillonian soil, but its by no means our last hurrah.