On my first morning back in Potato Point, I went for a 6 am walk, something I haven't done for far too long. I rediscovered many of the pleasures of home: the morning light, reflections in the creek, the spring flowerings, the cliff face, and traces of activity on the beach. There were the footprints of birds, people, kangaroos, dogs and undersand creatures. There were traces of the recent stormy weather: tangles of seaweed, feathers and bluebottles and a steeply eroded sandcliff. There were the tracks of the sea: sand ripples, a thin line of fresh tiny debris left behind by receding waves, There were traces of human activity: a cluster of fishing lines stuck in the sand ready for today's action and the print of a flipper heading for the waves. On a grander scale, there were traces left by wind and water and upheaval and geological time in the weathering and shaping and colouring of the rock face.
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