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At the bottom of the track from the cemetery to the beach, I crunch onto a mound of pebbles. I’m not bounding with energy today and the camera provides a good excuse to dawdle. The day is overcast and the light perfect. I bend down, scrutinising that crunch under my feet. I take portraits of individual shells and group portraits, using the pebbles as background, and I document the assemblages Mother Nature has created out of driftwood, cunjevoi, seaweed, desiccated sponges, leaves, rocks and shells.



Then I set off in pursuit of J, who is well out of sight around a couple of headlands in the bounding company of a large white dog with silky fur and an independent spirit. I rejoice in the power that has returned to his adductor muscle, in my easy recognition of chert, BIM and mylonite, even in the wave that catches me up to the calf as I edge my way round a rock. 

By now the sky is lowering, and the tide is coming in so it’s time to head for the car. As we follow the line of the shell midden (featured in my last post) along the hillock of pebbles, the first raindrops begin to fall.