So we looked at rocks and logs, instead.
|Empty sea, empty sky. On the left, the steps from 24th street, at the top of the cliffs, drop down to beach level.|
|Most logs float in without much damage, but every so often one looks as if it had been chewed.|
|Black rot or burn marks on a stump.|
|Beach rocks often incorporate chunks from various sources, creating interesting patterns, good imagination boosters. Laurie says these look like footprints; I see the whole section as a fish stencil.|
|And this is a pair of animals hiding behind a stump and keeping a watch out left and right.|
|Ok, now I'll be sensible. Is this a fossil of some kind? The rest of the rock is plain, smooth stone.|
|Something alive on shore; orange jellies on a blackened, rotting log.|
|Something alive on the water, after all; a man on a paddle board.|
I grew up in boats, playing in skiffs and canoes. I'm fascinated by these paddle boards; it's almost like walking on water. I see people off on the horizon, standing on what looks like nothing at all, or skimming along silently, approaching those distant rafts of diving ducks, and I envy them.
I just looked up the price of one; over a thousand bucks. And I'd never get Laurie on one, anyhow. I'll contain my envy.
A Skywatch post.