It’s time to take a break from some work that isn’t going as quickly as I would like. Time to play, and my six-year-old playmate is all ready to go.
It’s morning, and the tide is too far out for swimming. Never mind, the beach is perfect for sandcastles and the wet sand left by the receding sea is exactly the right texture.

We know from trial and error the important of patting each layer and consolidating the sand in the bucket

so that the form is preserved. The little one turns out a perfect sandcastle, and celebrates with a scallop shell on the top.
I find myself relaxing, accepting what nature is showing me. At present I’m developing an exciting new project, but it’s taking a lot of time to set it up with a solid foundation.

Sometimes I get impatient, like the little one with her next sandcastle.
It collapsed.
All was not lost, however. ‘It could be a hill. Or a house,’ she exclaimed, and so it was.

I’m happy that she is so ready to make something out of the ‘failure’. A collapsed castle is no big deal for her. But I don’t really want my new project to turn into a flat-topped hill or a house. I have aspirations. After all, I grew up beside a mountain.

‘Now we’ll connect them all up,’ she said,

gathering leaves from the sea. That’s the best place. They are all floating in the water.’

And so the sandcastle town is completed, with pathways linking the successful with the less successful castles, each one decorated and standing proudly.
I return home to reflect on what I learned from a bucket of sand. A collection of loose ideas swirling around is not good enough. I need to draw them together, connect them up and pack them into a sturdy container. The new technology needs to work. The website page needs to be set up. Inspiration on its own is not enough, but the right amount, like the ocean water, will hold everything in place, well consolidated, ready to stand alone.