The Sun and the Moon

6:15 am

It’s was one of those mornings, too good to doze through and miss, the first light of day brought excitement and shear pleasure as the dark inky skies lightened to a soft mauve, violet and firey orange.

I dragged Graham out of bed, insisting that he come with me for a dawn swim, the first for a long while. He wasn’t swimming I hasten to add, but there to enjoy this magical start to our day.

As we walked along the farm track it seemed Bryher was suspended between night and day. The rising Sun to the east, the sinking moon in the west. Everyone hovering on the point of change, the nocturnal creatures returning to rest after a night of feeding, whilst the sweet lyrical song of the dawn chorus awakens those creatures that prefer the sunlight.

I can hear the faint pup pup of a fishing boat but it’s long gone by the time we reach the quay.

The sea is cool but pleasantly so and it dances with flecks of amber and black silver. Below the surface is a muted seagreen grey, not ominously black just not illuminated with sunlight let.

Once I’m away from the shore I lay on my back, completely supported by the salty water. Staring up at the clear sky, now mauve with a hint of blue, it feels as if I’m gently spinning like the needle of a compass, swinging from east to west, but when I revert to the vertical again I am exactly where I was to begin with.

Everything about this morning felt soft, gentle and forgiving.

Footprints sinking in cool soft sand


At last the Moon is out after being hidden by cloud for the earlier part of the evening. I had almost given up hope of a moongazey swim but my luck was in.

All of us, me, Graham and the children couldn’t resist a nightime stroll down to the beach, although it’s only me that swims. I think Martha would have given half the chance, a paddle for her will have to sufice.

We giggle and chatter our way down through the path of overgrown trees, near South Hill, as their shadowing branches twist and twine over our heads to form an archway.

Into the moonlight at the end of the wooded tunnel and over the stoney bank onto Green Bay. The boats and islands dark silhouettes in the moonlight. The water black satin.

As I swim a little way out in the ebb tide, the Moon is reflected again and again in ripple after ripple. Sound is amplified, the night so still that the movement of water and an occasional bird call is the only noise.

It is utter magic and such a fun way to end the day.

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