For the past few months, I have been writing furiously on a new book. Not the easiest thing to do when you’re also trying to work a full-time job, preparing to swim at nationals, and play your favorite video game.
One of my favorite ways to refresh my mind is returning to the Pacific Ocean. Sitting on our cabin deck in the calm of morning or an early stroll along the beach before the crowds arrive always stirs my imagination.
This morning was especially lovely, as I had the beach to myself. Well, except for a couple thousand seagulls! They left me alone, for the most part. The sand is entirely grey: not many sand dollars, crab shells, or even pretty rocks, except for one odd leather-like half dollar. The grassy dunes are even more lonely. I could stand at the bottom of the path and stare out, seeing nothing but yellows and greens in every direction, with just a hint of beach house rooftops in the distance. A perfect cathedral for a Sunday morning.
The ducks on the canal outside our cabin are rather noisy, swooping down as one into the water without any regard as to how much wake they create, honking loudly as if to tease the local cats, then snapping their wings as they soar out of the way of the lone blue heron. Then the stillness returns, with the roar of the waves in the distance, a fat cup of hot joe at my side, and my lovely wife reading her book. I’m ready to write.
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