Dear reader...

ADAY AT THE seaside is one of summer’s greatest pleasures. Nowhere else is the rhythm of the Earth so apparent: the rise and fall of the waves; the ebb and flow of the tide; nature responding to the pull of the moon. To stand and watch the sea is truly a humbling experience.

Other than the occasional sight of a seal bobbing in the distance or a jellyfish washed up on the shore, one can only imagine the wonders that lie beneath. Yet there are clues; windows to the underwater world, left behind when the tide recedes. Staring into the glassy surface of a rock pool reveals a scene of magical-looking creatures; some permanent residents in their rocky home; others, temporary visitors, trapped until the tide engulfs it once more.

The childhood me would have netted the inhabitants; enthralled as they scrabbled about my bucket. I would have wrestled with the limpets, with no chance of ever removing them, their strength beyond my comprehension. The older me is simply engrossed by this brief, but magical, picture. Time is all that is needed to sit and watch the claret-red, jelly-like anemones peppering the rocks, or marvel at a hermit crab carrying its borrowed shell-home. There might even be a shrimp or a cheerily named blenny fish scooting along the bottom.

Before long, the rock pool will yield once more to the sea, and the picture will change, and, like me, the tiny guests in the rock pool will leave the beach, perhaps to return on another tide.

Rachel Hawkins Editor