Today is Sunday. The day we give ourselves a chance to sleep on a little, possibly even to 6:30. It's now 4:30 and I am summons awake by the seabirds calling for me to come and witness the outside world. As if an internal alarm clock has chimed in my soul, luring me into the morning light.
High above in the deep blue, the half moon shines; so brightly clear cut I could almost reach up, pluck it from the sky and study it like an exquisite jewel.
I've not come to swim, there is very little water with the tide now at its lowest, but I need to be outside, to not miss this moment stuffed up in a bed.
As I reach Green Bay a bird, maybe a curlew, lifts off, screeching a Jurasic sounding warning to the other birds hidden along the beach.
I find a little place to sit and listen. The gulls are a racket of yelp and squawk and song. Behind me, the tree-lined island is alive with sparrow call, a throng of tiny clicking chatter. If I sit everso still, hold my breath, I can hear the sand popping as air breaks it's wet surface. Sand hoppers flick and bounce, a woodlouse scurries past.
A few yaughts now rest in the bay, perched high and dry, awaiting the return of the tide. Tall, thin masts a new silhouette on the fire-like horizon. Their mast-top lights new stars in the sky.
Streaks of fluorescent pink cloud are drawn ruler straight across the blue, reminding me of those sticks of candy rock with a seaside town imprinted in its centre.
Last night the children and I watched a programme about wonders of the natural world. The images of mountain ranges and stories of tribes and indigenous peoples were awe inspiring and fascinating, but whilst I am sitting on this beach, the moon to my right, rising sun to my left, I realise this is the natural wonder of my world. I want to rush back home and raise the children from their beds. For them to know that right on their doorstep is one of the most beautiful places they will ever know. I doubt though that they would take kindly to this, not appreciate the gesture and think mummy is completely crazy.
I feel the light changing, the need in my stiff legs to stretch and walk, so I leave Green Bay, heading along it's sandy reach to wonder on.