Miniature wirehaired dachshund Rafferty in the sunset at John Muir Country Park.

East Lothian, February 2025

When I decided to share a monthly rewind post, the plan was to write and share this in the last few days of each month, yet I’m only two months into this idea and I’m already running late. But last week was a bit of a washout between one thing and another, while this week, by contrast, has been about catching up and editing photos and writing more.

And so I’m rewinding through February, a month that started when it still felt like the depths of winter, but ended with some glowing light and longer coastal walks as our afternoons stretched beyond 5pm and nudged towards 6pm. After so many midwinter walks that ended in torchlight, and with a few weekend walks where we barely saw daylight at all, these extra few hours changed everything.

Saying this, many of these photos were taken in low light as we time our walks for the quietest point of the day - that last two hours before nightfall - in the hope of encountering less people.

I’ve shared a few of these walks as blog posts: my birthday walk in mid-February from Yellowcraig to Eyebroughy and on along the dunes; a solo walk from Gullane to Eyebroughy and on to Yellowcraig, with clouds sweeping over the Forth and glowing light along the dunes, which I shared here in two parts, one and two; and this walk at John Muir Country Park where we’d driven down the coast expecting grey skies and rain only to arrive and discover blazing light as the sun was setting.

I realise with these rewinds that it’s easy to look back on a month - and perhaps this is particularly true over winter - and think: what did we do? Because I’m acutely aware at the moment of all the things we’re not doing and the things we’re missing this year: that trip to Cambo Gardens in Fife for the annual snowdrop festival in February; heading to Perthshire for a wintry walk at Faskally Wood and round Loch Dunmore; maybe a trip to Bamburgh for a long, wind-blasted beach walk, or to Cragside in Northumberland to explore the estate walk. It’s easy to focus on the things we’re not doing, because Raf’s reactivity makes it harder to be around places involving other people and dogs, but as I rewind through these photos, it reminds me of the things we did do. It was a cold month, but we got out and we walked below these big skies.

Calm sea at Yellowcraig in East Lothian.

View through the marram grass to the Firth of Forth.

Glowing last light over Fidra in East Lothian.

Blue skies over the island of Fidra in East Lothian.

The view towards Fidra from the shore above Eyebroughy beach.

Waves along the beach at Eyebroughy, with the view towards Fidra.

Miniature wirehaired dachshund Rafferty and Fiona on a log on the shore at Eyebroughy, with Fidra island in the distance.

Lichen-covered rocks on the coast in East Lothian.

Walking along the coast in East Lothian, with shoreline textures.

Fiona and Rafferty stand atop a dune in East Lothian, gazing out to sea.

Richard and Rafferty at Harris's Rock, looking towards Fidra in the last light.

View over Hedderwick Sands at high tide.

High tide over Hedderwick Sands at John Muir Country Park.

I wanted to mention this walk below (the next fourteen photos) as it’s one I’d considered sharing as a separate post, but I decided that the photos were too grey. And that isn’t about editing: there was just so little daylight on this walk back on Sunday 16 February. We’d had a really gorgeous walk on the Friday of that week, and then this walk just above at John Muir Country Park a day later, with high tide over Hedderwick Sands and low clouds hugging the land and seascape.

Then on Sunday we drove to Gullane and headed in the direction of Eyebroughy. Again, there was barely any light, but it was so quiet - perhaps the weather and the hint of rain had put people off. We wound along the shoreline with nothing but the sound of the waves, which were thunderous at points as the waves grew stronger the further east we walked. At one point we were winding along the top of the dunes as the waves were crashing onto the shore below us. And it was beautiful, really beautiful, even in the gloom.