Updated: Mar 1, 2020
In my week away from the islands lots on Bryher has changed. The new road has been finished, a gate has been painted blue, small motor boats are re-appearing on their moorings and kayaks sit at the top of the beach.
Along the hedges and banks large clumps of purple geranium and scented pinks are looking bonnie, the white flowered tri-cornered leeks are so thickly spread it is as if snow has fallen.
The flowers may think spring has sprung but the weather does not! A very cold south easterly wind drives the high tide up onto the seaweed strewn, granite pebbles that lay along the top of Green Bay. The sky is thick with grey clouds and spits of rain chill my skin each time they hit.
From a distance the sea looked steely blue, but now I am stood at the water’s edge it is its familiar hue of green glass and turquoise .
The water is warmer than the air and it is a pleasure to be engulfed by my old salty friend. Visibility is poor as the sea churns the seabed up into the wash, I can barely see my hands before me. I am effortlessly lifted up and let down as wave after wave sweeps towards the beach, some I swim through as a seal might do.
As I turn to swim back to the shore, the cool evening silver sun in the west, throws its dazzling light onto the choppy water and it bounces and dances, I stare in wonder at such a lovely sight, a cosy feeling in my heart that I am home.