Blue skies and golden sun greet me as I step outside today. Down to the beach I go. Strewn with seaweed, light reflecting from the wet sand. Ten days I’ve been gone from here. In my absence the winter waves and rushing stream have been doing some rearranging. The path to the sea’s edge is ankle deep in spring water, rolling down from the hills. Stones and pebbles lie strewn across the surface of the strand. New pools have formed, secret worlds to be explored. Yellow periwinkles cling precariously to the edges, waiting for the rising tide. Dark green bladderwrack adorns the largest boulders, draped like a wigs across their heads. Across the stream an oyster-catcher mocks. I follow seagull footprints along the sand, meandering along. Slowly I return to the start, back across the tumbled rocks.