I have mentioned before how I love the foreshore, neither land nor water. The tiny little cottage where I stayed to finish writing my book stood right on the edge. To get there you had to drive down narrow, winding roads with grass growing in the middle, then clamber along a steep path zig-zagging down the cliff face until there was the old boat house perched on a rock only just out of reach of the sea at high-tide. it was a perfect place to write.
At low tide a rocky beach emerged with rock pools, mussels and seaweed.
You could get to the beach through the secret door from the garden… and we all had a great time, exploring, and generally messing about. I spent a lot of time watching the water and the light
N.B. I managed to get a good first draft of the book finished as well.