In January the last access track to the black-sand shore was closed to vehicles. By June, the volunteers walking the tideline every Sunday were counting nests where there had been tyre ruts.
Ringed plovers nested on the upper beach for the first time in nine years. The dune grass, crushed flat for a decade, has begun to hold the sand again after the autumn storms.
None of it was planting. It was mostly leaving the place alone, and paying four wardens to make sure everyone else did too.
My grandmother courted in that glasshouse. I didn't think I would ever stand in it again, let alone take my own grandchildren.