On the farm the days of clearing are well and truly upon us. Pulling up hoops, netting, dead plants and clearing the tomato tunnels….ugghh!

This is not one of my favourite jobs, it’s not that it’s particularly difficult, but it’s a little mind numbingly repetitive and the air is humid and thick with the smell of rotting fruit.

I suppose it is satisfying to see the tunnels clean and tidy, but by mid-day the mind is dull, bones and back ache, skin is clammy and hot and images of cool, lazy water seep ever deeper into my mind.

The day is one of pale grey beauty, no blue, no sun, no green. Only silver, grey and glass clear water. The surface untouched by any breeze, sheltered on the eastern side by Bryher. The sky a little misty.

Cold silk edges up warm leg, then to groin and belly. A deep breath in and then dive down, hands skim sand and blood chills in luxurious clear water. Cold arms, cold neck, silent delight.

Away from shore, encased in thought, mind wonders. Until a movement, the sound of water halts stroke and breath and heart.

In front of me a small female seal. Small eyes dark and liquid-like, nostrils open and flare. We stare, she stares, I stare, in enchanted capture and then she sinks below the surface.

I take a breath and dive in search of her, and I see her, a ghostly shape in the hazy water. Graceful and sleek and gone. We exchange silent conversation a few times more, until she swims away and I swim for shore.

My mind no longer dull, my bones no longer ache, my skin refreshed, my world refreshed.

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