Milky sun casts diffuse light on everything, my favourite kind of light. This tends to happen around March. Seals honk, snort and wail on slabs of rock and seaweed between the mainland and the calf. A trawler labours through the the tidal rush, a phenomenon where sea is funneled between 2 large landmasses. The tides race against each other invisibly, creating static standing waves. I hear waves sloshing against surging seaweed. Grass shimmers in light wind and white sunlight next to me. The Mountains of Mourne hover above white sheets of Marine fog in the distance. The calf of Man – an island of solitude – sits solidly nestled in calm sea. Light white cloud hangs in the blue sky as people amble around here united in bliss on the first nice spring day of the year.