The little lighthouse.
You are standing on a quiet beach.
In the mildness of an autumn evening.
It is empty and peaceful.
The water so still.
That it melts into the sky.
And the water ripples with a tiny sigh against the sand.
You walk slowly.
Beginning to shed the cares of the day.
And leave it behind.
The sea is coming in quietly in tiny ripples of foam you simply walk.
Breathing the clear evening air.
And slowly breathe out.
There is something deeply restful.
About walking beside the sea at this time of day.
The familiar world becomes more distant.
And there is only the sand.
The water and the sky.
You walk on the margin of the waves without hurry.
Glancing at the horizon.
Where the sea meets the sky.
Even time itself seems to stretch into peace.
The colors of the sunset are muted by clouds.
Dusty rose and blue-gray.
The wind begins to rise a little.
Skittering sand particles.
And the air feels warm and damp.
Clouds are gathering out at sea.
Billowing autumn storm clouds.
Moving steadily towards the coast.
There is something peaceful about the changing weather.
The world does not resist it.
The clouds simply move across the sky.
The wind simply blows.
You too,
Move gently through this moment.
Ahead of you.
A promontory of rock tumbles out into the sea.
And here lies your destination.
It is a tiny lighthouse.
Charmingly small.
In the shape of an old pepper pot.
With a little rounded lantern room at the top.
Its walls are white against the evening sky.
And high above you.
You can see a tiny light beginning to glow.
Warm and golden and comforting.
A little point of warmth in the gathering darkness.
You wonder who looks after it.
And who keeps the little lamp burning?
Who makes sure everything is ready for the long nights and the autumn storms.
Whatever the answer is tonight.
The Lighthouse is waiting just for you.
A sanctuary against the storm.
The wind is stronger now,
Blowing in gusts.
It answers.
The waves begin to rise.
And the sea turns a darker gray.
You can hear the deeper sounds of water breaking against the rocks.
You see that the little lighthouse is connected to the beach by a path that winds up through the rocks.
And you follow it.
A few drops of rain touch your face.
But you take your time.
There is no need to hurry.
You know where you are going.
You can see the little lighthouse ahead.
Its tiny golden light glowing brighter against the evening.
You climb the path,
Feeling the press of the wind.
As you approach the little door with a brass handle.
You turn it and step inside into warmth.
Immediately the sound of the storm is muted.
Audible but distant.
The little lighthouse is wonderfully cosy.
Lamps shed warm pools of golden light.
There is a small stove in one corner.
And beside it,
A basket of logs.
The stove is glowing gently,
Throwing a soft warmth into the room.
And upon it.
A small pot simmers.
The scent is appetizing after your long walk along the beach.
There is a little table.
A comforting chair.
And a small kitchen area.
Everything is simple.
Everything has its place.
And feels welcoming.
As if the lighthouse itself.
Has been expecting you.
And now offers you nourishment,
Shelter and rest.
You take off your coat and shoes.
Feeling the warmth of the wooden floor beneath your feet.
And you stand there for a moment,
Listening.
The wind blusters around the lighthouse.
The rain taps against the windows.
And beneath everything.
You hear the hush and boom of the ocean.
But you are inside.
Warm and dry and sheltered.
You walk over to the stove.
And add another small log to the fire.
It catches gently.
And you hold out your hands.
Feeling the heat against your palms.
Going to the little kitchen area.
You see,
Cattle is waiting.
You fill it with fresh water.
And place it beside the pot on the stove.
Looking through the little cupboards.
You find a selection of teas,
Coffee.
.
.
And hot chocolate.
In the fridge,
There is fresh milk and juices.
You make yourself a soothing drink.
And sit down in the comfortable chair.
Outside.
The rain becomes heavier.
And the wind rises.
Like the tide.
It moves with a rush.
But the walls here are sturdy.
And the windows are secure.
There is a delightful feeling of being safe and sheltered here.
While a storm blows outside.
You go to the stove and serve yourself from the delicious hot pot that has been cooking.
And at the table.
You eat and drink.
Savouring the flavours.
After,
You wash the dishes at the little sink.
And make another drink.
And then sit down again.
Relaxing into the cushions of the chair.
The glass of the windows are beaded by rain.
And beyond.
The world slowly darkens toward night.
For a while.
You just listen to the deep music of the storm.
Of wind.
The same.
The lighter patters of the rain.
After a time.
You get up to close the little curtains.
The sea is barely visible now.
But every so often.
A curling wave catches the beam from the lighthouse.
And you see a silver curve of water.
Before it disappears again.
The lighthouse lamp turns slowly.
Its gentle,
Hopeful beams.
Moving across the darkness.
There is something almost hypnotic about it.
The light and the rain.
The sea and the wind.
All of them lull you.
It is strangely peaceful to listen to the wild weather outside when you are warm and sheltered.
The lighthouse interior.
Seems to have been designed to give you that sense of safety and comfort.
There is a shelf with a few books.
A framed picture of a peaceful landscape.
A lantern.
Hanging near the door.
A little bowl filled with smooth pieces of sea glass that glow like jewels in the light.
At the back of the room,
There is a door.
And you open it to see a small,
Shallow flight of steps curving upward.
Following the inside of the lighthouse.
At the top.
There is another warm,
Inviting glow of light.
You follow the few steps up.
Passing a small window.
And catch another glimpse of the sea.
Dark waves.
Dark sky.
And the sweeping light of the lighthouse.
Then you continue.
And walk into the bedroom.
With a little bathroom through another door.
It's clean,
Warm simplicity is inviting.
The bed stands beneath the curved wall.
There are thick blankets.
Soft pillows.
And clean white sheets.
A little bedside lamp softly tints the pale walls to the color of sunlight.
There is a small window beside the bed and thick curtains ready to be drawn.
You walk over and look outside one last time.
Out into the storm.
The sea dashes itself against the rocks,
Flinging white spew that catches the light from the lamp.
The clouds are grey and torn by the wind into ragged streamers.
You see behind them.
The pale moon glow.
As the moon brightens and dims behind the scattering clouds.
The storm is still moving across the sea.
But now you feel the pleasant heaviness of tiredness beginning to arrive.
The kind of tiredness.
That comes when the day is finished.
You draw the curtain.
Leaving the little room.
A haven of warm light.
And you get ready for bed.
You turn off the lamp and settle into the comforting warmth.
The mattress supporting you.
Pillow cradling your head and neck.
There is a faint scent of fresh laundry.
Closing your eyes,
You let your body loosen and become still.
You rest.
Listening to the bluster and surge of the wind and sea.
And the top,
Top of the range.
The storm is outside.
The lighthouse.
Is around you.
The bed.
Is beneath you.
And you are safe.
And somewhere above you.
The little lighthouse continues its quiet work.
The lab turns.
Slowly and steadily.
Sending its warm light out into the night.
A hopeful golden circle.
Moving across the darkness.
Your body softens.
Becoming comfortably heavy with the approach of sleep.
And your mind becomes quieter.
You simply lay.
Listening to the storm.
While you are warm.
Safe.
And sheltered.
Tomorrow.
The storm will be over.
Leaving a litter of sea treasures along the beach but you can always come here again.
At any season.
It can become your little safe place beside the sea.
A warm room at the end of a quiet beach.
A soft bed beneath the lantern.
A storm outside and peace within.
Tonight.
Just let the day finish.
Let evening melt into night.
Too sweet.
The sound of the rain on the window.
The billow of the wind.
The stormy sea.
Begin to become fainter.
Further away.
As you drift.
Sweet.
