This evening I walked out of my cottage door, dusk was just falling and there was still a gentle and pleasing warmth from the day. Sweet pea and lavender scent filled the air, with deeper notes counterpointing from the bougainvillea and honeysuckle.
The sun, low and blood red against the horizon threatened to boil the sea as it sank from view, stealing the life from the world. Bats swooped in the lengthening shadows and a lone shearwater began his evening chorus out on the headland.
Beyond, and faintly I could hear the slap of sails from the boats in the bay and the muted crash of the foamy surf.
I lifted up my jelly mould. It was the perfect setting.