Yesterday was glorious. Warm, bright. A couple of resident eagles launching from the trees and cruising around and then landing back. Even over the sound of the waves you could hear one when it called. I stopped for a long time on a drift log as perfectly shaped for sitting as one of J. B. Blunk's redwood benches, to listen to the whoosh of water displacing air as the waves reached higher up the beach and seeped in among the pebbles; and the sound of the rocks clattering against each other as the withdrawing waves rolled them down the shore, stopped, rolled them back up.
I decided early on that it was warm enough for shoes that can get wet, and warm enough that on the way back I needn't bother dodging too hard to escape the tide. I let the waves catch me if they would. Misjudged slightly. Wet to the waist and nearly got the camera wet. Oh it was glorious.
The only thing missing was pelicans; they're around, I saw some last time, but none yesterday.
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