We walked north all the way around Hug Point and into the next beach last week. All the wave-swept stone was coated in green, like matching jackets. I would have walked to Arcadia, another half mile, but we’d have had to come home on the highway and there are a couple of dangerous stretches I know too well from when I was running.
I meant to share photos. It was an accomplishment to walk that far on the beach before the end of March.
The seaweed will begin to go once the sun is high enough to burn it during low tide.
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The other day we saw five eagles all at once. Three were on the beach near the dead seal just up the beach, which has since then begun stinking. The seal. The other two eagles were in a snag about fifty yards back from the beach. I didn’t have my camera with me, so Gary and I just stood and stared for a long time from a respectful distance.
This morning, an eagle stood near a dead albatross. It’s the second dead albatross we have seen on our shore since 1979. Our biologist neighbor didn’t believe we’d found that first bird until Gary took him out and showed him the body on the sand. “That’s a black-footed albatross,” he said then. If John was right, we found a rare bird. Dead, though.
IMPERFECT PATIENCE 