Grey skies, colourful blooms
Yesterday, July 5th, was my birthday. No cake, no guests. This year, I spent the day with my daughter on a trip to the Marker Wadden, because I love water, the Dutch Wadden Islands, nature and photography.
The sky above the IJsselmeer was grey and the wind was strong. We boarded the Willem Barentsz and looked out over the rippling water from the deck. In the distance, we searched, scanning the lake, for the newest piece of the Netherlands. Our eyes stayed fixed on the horizon, a steady point against the rolling motion of the boat.
Once moored in the harbour of the Marker Wadden, the weather felt calmer. The wind was still there, but blew gently past behind the young, low dunes. With a camera in each hand, we followed the paths between reed beds and marram grass, looking for, among other things, bearded reedlings. Those small copper-toned birds with their black moustache-like markings didn’t show themselves today. We heard them, but they remained hidden deep in the reeds.
Along the edge of the water, we spotted a young avocet, elegant in black and white. With its curved beak gliding through the mud, it searched for snails, tiny crustaceans and insect larvae.
It was the flowers that added colour to the grey day. Between the windblown grasses, they lifted their heads, undeterred by the harsh wind. The great mullein stood tall and unwavering, optimistic yellow against the grey. Among the marram grass, small lilac flowers bloomed like festive birthday confetti.
Now and then we were surprised by a passing shower, but the wind dried us off again just as quickly. Occasionally, the sun broke through. Not brightly, not for long, but just enough to make the water shimmer. The IJsselmeer turned soft green, almost milky, with a silvery, gentle glow.
We ended where we had begun, on the boat. Ropes released again, wind in the sails, marram grass fading in the distance. On the return journey, one of the guides told us a story that stuck with me – about the golden button, a small round flower from South Africa. It normally grows in saltwater, so the fact that it blooms here in fresh water is remarkable. He explained it probably travelled with VOC ships and lay dormant for centuries in old silt, later used to build the Marker Wadden. And now it’s blooming here, unexpectedly. I didn’t spot it myself. I’ll have to return soon.
It wasn’t a summery birthday, not a loud celebration with streamers. But it was exactly the kind of day I wanted.
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