The sky is a light blue fading to a dusty pink as the golden sun sinks slowly behind the horizon. Swifts shriek with joy as they soar and dive in the cool evening air and swallows chatter in a huddle on the telephone wire. A gentle and very welcome breeze gently fingers through your hair providing coolness and relief after the searing heat of the day. As the world cools down warmth still bounces off the walls a comforting heat that enables you to sit out in nature watching.

Perfume, heavy and sweet fills the air as the flowers come alive after being showered with rare and valuable drops of water from the watering can. They have survived listless and wilting all day under the burning heat from the relentless sun but now are vibrant and beautiful in the coolness of the evening. They reward the waterer with their bright colours and their luxurious lingering scent.

As a blackbird sings a melodious tune from the telegraph post celebrating another day birds are busy getting food for their young and settling them for the darker hours ahead. The sky turns a duskier pink and bats emerge to catch the insects that are out getting the last of the goodness from the flowers before they close their petals against the cold of the night. Like tiny mice with delicate wings the bats dart and swoop drunkenly against the swiftly darkening velvet sky. A sheep in the distance bleats, a lone curlew makes its haunting warbling cry and a snuffling in the grass shows a hedgehog scuttling round looking for tasty morsels in the peaceful twilight.

Now that the sun has sunk below the horizon a coolness settles like a blanket and after enjoying watching nature settle into the rhythms of a beautiful summer’s evening you go indoors to the warmth and comfort of your own bed.

Today is bright, still and calm. A tonic after weeks of blistering winds, heavy rain and gloomy days. The stillness is blissful but feels like the calm before the storm. Even so I am enjoying the serenity.

Winter is definitely firmly present as there is a chill in the air, the trees are still baring their brown branches and the grass is the yellowing green that provides little if any nutrients for grazing animals.

A rich sweet smell fills my nostrils and looking over a wall I see a huddle of silently ruminating sheep enjoying the luxurious hay bale their farmer has kindly left for them. I pause a moment to watch the rustic scene with pleasure.

There is always one sheep that is more adventurous than the rest. Sure enough whilst others delicately nibble the edges allowing room to share, one clambers on top to get as much hay as possible. Its warm breath sends clouds of steam into the air where it hangs silently in the still afternoon.

Suddenly, as though aware I am watching two white noses turn to look at me. Their dark eyes suggesting I am intruding. Taking the hint I turn and leave the peaceful winter scene behind and carry on my way.

The road meanders ahead like a long grey ribbon breaking up the golden countryside that stretches as far as the eye can see. In the distance a hill looms watching and waiting but never seeming to get any nearer.

I could be in the Wild West of America with the sense of timelessness, space and arid landscape I am experiencing. It’s difficult to believe that only a few hours away there are the crowded beaches of the Spanish costas. Not a soul can be seen in the shimmering haze of the afternoon heat.

After what feels like hours I reach the bottom of the hill and start to wind up the narrow snaking road. With each hairpin bend the view gets more spectacular and the valley seems smaller and more distant. A building shrugged into the hillside must be the destination. All that is visible is a whitewashed stony wall that looks like a long cattle shed.

A feeling of unease creeps into my stomach as I wonder what sort of place I am coming to. The light is failing, I am in the middle of nowhere and haven’t seen a soul for hours.

As I round the final corner I am unprepared for the sight before me. A beautiful church with two ancient and majestic olive trees guarding its door is attached to a long rambling building that was one a monastery or religious refuge. This has now been transformed into a hotel and the modern doors and windows are incongruous next to the old bell tower and rough stone walls.

The views are magnificent and in the setting sun the landscape has a golden glow highlighting a vista that is unlike any I have seen before. Hills have been carved into interesting shapes by millennia of wind and plateaus of golden sand lie between the wooded foothills.

People are standing in silence watching the scenery and suddenly I am part of a modern day pilgrimage. One of a group of people who are staying at this hotel and watching the countryside in awe.

The silence is broken by the peal of bells from the bell tower, the door of the church opens and people file silently in for mass. I am alone once more feeling at peace and blessed to be in such a magical setting.

The roaring fills my ears and travels into my head. A constant sound that ebbs and flows rhythmically. In other circumstances a noise as loud as this would be annoying but in this instance it makes me feel alive and at one with the elements. A sense of being part of nature washes over me.

Even though I am sitting on a rock further up the beach, a fine mist settles on my skin as droplets of spray are whipped off the waves by the wind. A briny bitterness catches in the back of my throat and the salty ocean tang fills my nostrils. My fingers and nose are cold and damp but my body is warm cuddled in a downy coat and scarf.

On this wild day the beach is deserted of people but an oyster catcher runs along the tide line looking for a morsel to eat. It’s bright orange legs flash a pop of colour into an otherwise grey palette. A white seagull soars over the waves keeping a beady eye out for movement below the waves.

The waves are mesmerising to watch; constantly shifting and changing. Each one begins as a smooth undulating silky sheet, that slowly reforms into a mound before peaking to a creamy white crest that tumbles over itself in its rush to get to the shore. As the ocean reclaims it the wave recedes leaving a delicate white lacy pattern behind on the water.

Slowly but surely the waves creep towards me and I become aware that my feet are in a pool of water. Leaving my rock I take one last look back at the vast expanse of sea that has kept me in the moment this afternoon. I am wrapped in a blanket of calmness as I leave the beach.

The door is flung open and a cold blast of air enters the house. With a lot of jostling, shoving and pushing a beautiful Christmas tree is finally wrestled into its new home. It stands in pride of place in the living room but looks all forlorn and disheveled. Its limbs twisted and misshapen after being squashed through the door.

Merry laughter, chatter and joyful singing creates a festive vibe as Christmas carols jingle through the air. Children circle the tree, carefully placing baubles of all different colours on the branches, wrapping themselves in tinsel in an attempt to swathe it round the tree. Slowly, as the Scot’s Pine relaxes into the warmth its branches drop and it releases a beautiful woody resin scent that is reminiscent of evergreen forests and sitting cosily by the fire whilst it is cold outside.

As the dull light of the December day is taken over by darkness the delicate string of twinkling fairy lights are lovingly placed around the tree. Gasps of admiration are drawn from the decorators as, stepping back to view their work, they are rewarded with a magical symbol for Christmas. An object of beauty worthy of taking pride of place in the living room.