A Brilliant Sunday Morning Stroll

... on first arriving at the water ...

The people who walk on this cover are friendly.

Perhaps that is because of the shared joy of a quiet secluded walk along the beach.


On Sunday I met a man who asked where I was from.


“The prairies.”


I asked where he was from.

...the rock is under water, water so clear ...

He said he was born in Victoria, as was his mother.


“Must suck,” I said, “to be born somewhere where there is no better place to go.”


We continued to walk along the beach.

... this is the only duck of my usual 30 on the beach ...

Then he walked ahead and when I caught up to he had found a place on the beach where he could lean on a rock.


His heels were pushed into the sand and he laughed, and pointed to a piece of wood that was a pillow for his head against the rock.


I had seen him duck down as he had walked down the beach, and kind of look up at the ivy covered cliff there.


 I wondered what he was looking at.

... more of my beautiful beach ...

I was to find out in a short time.


I walked along the beach, watching my feet and then my head knocked into a tree that has grown out laterally over the water instead of up to the sun.


I have seen that tree before.


Even photographed it.

... seaweed left by the tide on the beach ...

But the tide has never been in so far that I had to walk to it, then under it, and then on again.


 Rebecca thinks I am going to get two black eyes over it, since there was immediate bruising in the inner corners of my eyes from my glasses.


I think the bluish colour there is only temporary



Arta