In the perfect summer weather of the long weekend, the sun was up, melting the hill, while the bach was still sleeping in the shade.
It’s always special when the family comes to share the bach with me. The little one says she loves it, because ‘I can swim in the stream, or the sea, but my favourite is swimming in the cocoon.’

 And here she is, wearing her sunhat and so immersed that she looks like another little rock. We all know that she means ‘lagoon’, but no-one wants to correct her, because we love her version so much.

  The other delight about the family coming out, is that the little one’s father picks up on his childhood discoveries in this very same place. We came to live here when he was two years old, until he was six, and after that on the weekends.
The iron sand of our west coast beaches has special properties.
Soon he got to know some other local kids, and they taught him the art of making iron balls.

The secret is to alternate wet and dry sand, and build the iron ball up in layers,

until you have an impressive ball to throw into the lake or lagoon with a resounding splash.

Continuity: I love the feeling of holding this place for the coming generations, and knowing that my son’s early years spent out here have given him a feel for the land that lives in his bones. I’m swimming in the cocoon.