The arctic wind has swept down through Scotland, landing at the door with an icy blast. The sea rides in on the breeze, white horses galloping to shore. Time for an expedition outside to explore the rolled up seaweed with my excited five-year old niece. Wrapped up close in hat, scarves and gloves, the debris is tumbled by our boots as we search for joy. A crab’s claw and several shells emerge from the tangled mass. A sand island forms as the tide whirls in, barriered by shallow water and trickling stream. She claims her own small world before we cross the channel, jumping from rock to rock. With pockets full of stones and shells we scramble back to the shore. Dashing home to the house, the log-fire has been blazing in preparation. We huddle together in the warmth. Hot chocolate and marshmallows mingle with conversation and laughter. Outside the dark deepens, and the time moves on. Inside is the sacred space, bounded by love and light. Joyful gusts buffet the room.