This article is from the source 'guardian' and was first published or seen on . It last changed over 40 days ago and won't be checked again for changes.

You can find the current article at its original source at https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2016/jul/13/almost-island-welsh-coast-nowhere-becoming-somewhere-country-diary

The article has changed 2 times. There is an RSS feed of changes available.

Version 0 Version 1
This almost-island on the Welsh coast is a nowhere becoming somewhere This almost-island on the Welsh coast is a nowhere becoming somewhere
(about 1 month later)
I know these plants: pyramidal orchid, lady’s bedstraw, common centaury, restharrow and wild thyme. I saw them up the Windmill hill only yesterday evening and to me they spell summer in the surviving fragments of limestone grassland on Wenlock Edge. I did not expect to find them so gloriously contradictory at the seaside.I know these plants: pyramidal orchid, lady’s bedstraw, common centaury, restharrow and wild thyme. I saw them up the Windmill hill only yesterday evening and to me they spell summer in the surviving fragments of limestone grassland on Wenlock Edge. I did not expect to find them so gloriously contradictory at the seaside.
A tumble of dunes barricades the golf course below Harlech castle against Cardigan Bay, the dune shapes mimicking the architecture of Snowdonia’s mountains behind them. I always fall for that trick of the sublime, looking landward from the sea: the silver of the rippled flow, the lone lost crab and scribble of seaweed.A tumble of dunes barricades the golf course below Harlech castle against Cardigan Bay, the dune shapes mimicking the architecture of Snowdonia’s mountains behind them. I always fall for that trick of the sublime, looking landward from the sea: the silver of the rippled flow, the lone lost crab and scribble of seaweed.
The eye follows the incoming tide across the beach, races into dunes green with marram grass and creamy with low sunlight, then scrambles through hanging woods darkly into the high above and the vertigo of crag clouds. Such a landlubber, I’m giddy with awe.The eye follows the incoming tide across the beach, races into dunes green with marram grass and creamy with low sunlight, then scrambles through hanging woods darkly into the high above and the vertigo of crag clouds. Such a landlubber, I’m giddy with awe.
Related: Orchids paint the hill a sadder shade of pink
Morfa Harlech is one of those liminal almost-islands on the Welsh coast that is constantly changing; a nowhere becoming somewhere, a place that is never settled. Once the sea crashed against the castle cliffs, now meadow pipits dodge golf balls where land has been claimed, invented.Morfa Harlech is one of those liminal almost-islands on the Welsh coast that is constantly changing; a nowhere becoming somewhere, a place that is never settled. Once the sea crashed against the castle cliffs, now meadow pipits dodge golf balls where land has been claimed, invented.
But the Morfa has never acquiesced; it is an unfinished edge, like the foam left by a retreating wave. This is a drag of winnowed sand, thumbed out by storms, soft in outline, sharp to the touch, its summer flowers seem oddly new. And yet, they tell a story older than the medieval castle.But the Morfa has never acquiesced; it is an unfinished edge, like the foam left by a retreating wave. This is a drag of winnowed sand, thumbed out by storms, soft in outline, sharp to the touch, its summer flowers seem oddly new. And yet, they tell a story older than the medieval castle.
Inland, these ancient meadow plants are only present because of grazing and mowing – centuries of traditional meadow work. Out on the Morfa, they are old inhabitants of new land; the places they come from have been lost. Here the flowers grow stronger, the restharrow and common centaury are more pink, the lady’s bedstraw and hawksbit are more yellow, the thyme more purple, and yet the living is tougher, riskier than meadowlands.Inland, these ancient meadow plants are only present because of grazing and mowing – centuries of traditional meadow work. Out on the Morfa, they are old inhabitants of new land; the places they come from have been lost. Here the flowers grow stronger, the restharrow and common centaury are more pink, the lady’s bedstraw and hawksbit are more yellow, the thyme more purple, and yet the living is tougher, riskier than meadowlands.
Something of the sublime grandeur of the mountains has folded into these delicate, dreamy flowers; it contradicts the uncertainty of their place, where everything about them is temporary.Something of the sublime grandeur of the mountains has folded into these delicate, dreamy flowers; it contradicts the uncertainty of their place, where everything about them is temporary.
Follow Country diary on Twitter:@gdncountrydiaryFollow Country diary on Twitter:@gdncountrydiary