For eight miles down to the sea there are waves of buttercup, bluebells, mallow, sea beet, sweet briar, samphire, heather, rock rose, wild orchids. An Oak tree wraps its roots around nearby sea-worn rocks as if involved in vast and slow love with its surroundings. A cool stream runs amongst the Ash trees. The land is dreaming and intelligent. It speaks in the unfurlment and illumination of a billion virgin neurons into my mind like a tree growing backwards into the darkness. It speaks in the calm flame in my heart and blood
On the wild shore there is a piece of the spinal column of a dolphin and a tiny blue butterfly. Beneath the sea unknown to man shoals of silver gleaming bass move towards the shore as the sun descends. In the heat, the sea is dreaming the return of fin whales, humpback whales and bluefin tuna to these waters. It dreams the return of man as animal and as sustainer of life. The land is dreaming the return of bison, boar, wolf, bear and wolverine. Here already, in secret, deer come down from the forest and walk on the beach.