We are nestled in against the wild elements that swirl outside Tŷ Bach, cosy by the fire. Lleucu, our seven-month-old daughter, is amazed by the twinkling lights we have hung from the ceiling, to the curtain pole and on the evergreen holly branches. We are grateful for the light as the days are short and dark; the internet, which is reflected to us from the lighthouse, often stops working shortly after sunset, when the solar power runs out. We reach for books to entertain ourselves, rather than the endless stream of our phones.

I’ve been reading ‘Tide Race’ by Brenda Chamberlain and ‘Bardsey’ by Christine Evans, perhaps looking for a connection with others who have shared the same experience of spending years living on the island. I have been struck by their colourful descriptions and how they discuss the rhythm of nature and the people of Enlli, the ebb and flow of communities and the characters that have filled the houses – places that have hardly changed over the decades.

This month, I have been working in Carreg, scraping old paint off parts of its walls, letting the house breathe to try to reduce the environmental damage to the murals – damage that is impossible to avoid after 70 winters. I feel a connection to the time Brenda was writing, I can imagine her living her life in these rooms; I can even see the texture of her paintbrush in the murals. She decided to leave her mark by painting the murals and writing her book, Tide Race; and although it is a mixture of fact and fiction, it seems that she completely devoted herself to life on the island. By devoting herself to the arduous and physical work of living on the island, she was able to release her creative mind. By working the land and walking the paths, she gained perspective and felt a connection with those who had trodden and worked the land before her. After all, she was walking the exact same ground.

I know that time will undo most of my work on the island; there will be no trace of all the restoration work on the houses, the hours of mowing grass, opening paths and painting walls and doors! Nevertheless, my hope is that the blood and colours of Enlli, its sounds and silence, will resonate after I leave, and they will be part of Lleucu, an anchor of peace as she moves through the increasing noise and illusion of the world.

When Christine was writing, she was already longing for the ‘old people’s’ way of life, the community of tireless farmers and fishermen making their lives on Enlli, churning butter with horses and an iron shaft. The iron shafts are still here, exposed by the elements, and no significant development has taken place on the island. But even though that way of life has changed or even disappeared, the island demands that we remember and keep the spirit alive. I often wake up at 7am in the summer ready to start the day only to look out of the window and realise that Gareth and Ernest have been out at sea fishing for three hours already, out since dawn to catch the best tide!

Our community swells in the spring and summer and changes from week to week with different visitors. But among the hustle and bustle there are some things that are stable, and stability must be embraced in a place as changeable as Enlli.

It was great to welcome two new members of staff to our team last year, Jack Galloway and Catrin Menai, from March to the end of September. It was nice to see them settling in and rolling up their sleeves to grow food and enjoy the daily and weekly rhythm of the place. They, together with volunteers, ensured that visitors could enjoy their holidays and retreats from week to week.

As I reflected on the longer-term patterns and rhythms of the island, as Christine did in her book, I thought of the communities that lived here and left: the monks, the thieves, the Vikings. There was hardship and opportunity, and every community, despite the hardships, had some kind of gift. For Brenda Chamberlain, rekindling her creativity; for others, independence and status. I hope that as the island develops in the future, we will create opportunities for other communities to live here, to create a living from the land and the sea, and to keep the spirit of hard work and gifts alive. Christine quotes Wil Evans in her book, who says that Enlli is ‘A place for young people. Some strong young ones who arrive without much are doing well. The person who arrives with money and thinks they could make life easier leaves with nothing’.

So, I look forward to a new year on Enlli – knowing that the more I give, the more Enlli will give back. We stay here in the winter because you have to devote yourself to both sides of the coin to live life to the full. We are waiting because there is wonder here, wonder which is reflected back brighter than ever in our daughter’s eyes. It is a remarkable place, which weaves together yesterday, today and tomorrow.