The thing I forgot is how much light was there, and how many moods it can have near the sea. The bright surrounding glow in haze, the drum-tight flat blue, the suspended colors, the cold dull morning fog, the perfect repose and spreading distances of sunset. Under the water, too, where the sea thrashes through the rocks and through kelp as tall as trees, as pale as new grass. Fish of every description, orange and blue and yellow, strangely unafraid when you are used to chasing birds, and when you know how tenuous their lives are there.

It was an excess of beauty, and we had nothing to do but let it flow through our fingers.