A winter break in Scotland. Mists melt into clear skies and still waters. The sun is low over the horizon. Liquid gold waves kiss the rocks and dissolve onto the shore. A pathway of sunlight leads to the hidden.
Short daylight hours mean that as in one direction the dawn sun rises behind masts, in the other a full moon sinks behind the house fronting the bay at Garlieston. There is silence. No wind singing in the rigging. No cries from wheeling gulls.
The fisherman, entrapped for ever in bronze, watches for the return of the fleet. The fishing grounds are empty. A time for reflection on what once was, as thoughts turn to the future. A time for New Year resolutions.