Evening Light Across The Water

This evening, I found myself standing on the hillside above Pirnmill, looking out across the Kilbrannan Sound towards the mainland. The air carried a faint saltiness from the sea below, and the light had that rare quality that only happens when the day begins to close under a restless sky.

On the distant ridgeline, the wind farm stood in perfect silhouette, each turbine turning slowly against a backdrop of muted greys. The sky above was heavy with low cloud, yet here and there, the light found its way through in soft, narrow beams. These streaks broke over the dark water, scattering silver patterns across the surface, moving and shifting with the breeze.

It was a scene of contrasts, the stillness of the land, the steady motion of the turbines, the rippling water catching every scrap of light it could find. Despite the scale of the view, it felt intimate, as if the mainland and the island were sharing a quiet moment, unobserved by the rest of the world.

Black and white suited the mood perfectly. Without the distraction of colour, the shapes and textures came alive, the jagged edge of the hill, the fine detail of the turbine blades, the soft shimmer of the water.

Evenings like this are a reminder that sometimes, the most striking scenes aren’t dramatic sunsets or perfect blue skies, but the calm, understated beauty of light and shadow playing together at the close of the day.

Photographed above Pirnmill, Isle of Arran.