This season, my world has been smaller but not lesser. Our beach at the end of the road is full of rock pools. Some are deep with claws hiding in the crevices and others are like a shallow magnifying lense reflecting the curious faces of local children with their fingers in the curled tendrils of an anenome. The house wakes to many blue sky days. The garden has wilting flowers and dry grass and lines of trees heavy set with fruit. My body has been soaking in salt; enhanced in beachy brine. Some of the sea swishes up the hill on a sticky wind. It coats north facing windows with scales. Massaged by waves, holding little bodies tight in the swell and sheltering in shady spots with sand between my toes is summer bliss. There have been such lovely moments connecting with friends and breezily hanging with the family. I have stretched out into the regions beyond home, camped off the beaten track and danced at weddings. There have been deep sleeps and blood pumping but mostly there has been a quiet restful period in close proximity to those and that I love best; at home.