... they fished the waters, as the wind gathered an orchestra of sounds and scents that rose to shout encouragement and whisper welcomes as it swept through the area. With each gust, it carried the salty tang of the sea, the earthy aroma of seaweed, and the sweet perfume of wildflowers, and as it ran up the shore its invisible fingers painted the sand with shards of cut-glass light, casting patterns of shadow and illumination that stirred a symphony of movement. It choreographed a ballet of nature's own creation.

Rising over the bay, a peach painted lighthouse offered a warning to the ships and local sea traffic, its imposing presence promised a telling of tales that waited to be unveiled in cosy, story nights, no longer manned its lonely demeanour illustrated and overlooked an expanse of churning memories

It was positioned on a promontory, that served as a natural lookout point, it was set at the end of a stack of grey and cyan slate coloured cliffs, and the nearest one was accessible from the beach, it appeared to grow up and out of the sand, and it had a topping that was made from loose shingle that ran down and onto the sparkling diamond, crushed shells that littered the stony sand and rock pools. Viewed from its base through a flashing sun, it appeared like a man made heap of a sugar mountain that was built to lean against a high wall but it was illusory just a safety measure to stop people from climbing up or down its face as its body backed onto and curved around the land mass to support the high road that was carved onto its summit and served as a bridge between the local villages.

From a point on this scrubland a lonely, skinny, green bush grew to enclose a small caved space and from behind it a deer stepped out, its magnificent antlers stretched high, tines that imaged a tree of life branched out from a centre beam, resembling a human hand, Its shimmering coat juxtaposed alongside soft brown eyes that were rimmed with glorious eyelashes, this magnificent creature knew this scape, knew where to hunt for food, knew the easy paths. He stood tall and strong, in this small space that curved around the end of the bay, where he had spent many an hour following the human footprint. He knew the scent of sea and the taste of nature. Angling his head, he sniffed a spore, looked up the beach, saw the man walking alone, head covered and bent into the wind, he paused momentarily before stepping-up onto the shingle, there he checked his path upwards and as loose stone rattled and slipped down the incline he climbed towards an private observation post, where members of his pack would join him as night closed in. As he turned to face the sea, he sat and waited as the man walked under his viewing post, picking his steps over the rock pools that mirrored the scudding clouds, walking to the end of the beach, relaxing in the beauty of the season's bark before turning for home.

Then as the sun painted the sky in fingers of pink and gold, the gulls returned, weaving between rocky outcrops and narrow crevices to reach their nests, that were built into the sheer rock faces. As they landed they were greeted by the chirping of hungry chicks, their mouths open wide in anticipation of the evening meal. With tender care, the adult gulls fed their offspring. It was a scene of familial devotion amidst the sometimes harsh beauty of this coastal landscape, and a reminder of the bonds that unite all creatures in the web of life.