I began writing this on Tuesday, three days ago, and you won’t read it until Friday morning. It was a chilling, damp morning but we walked north to the headland, zig-zagging back home. We spotted the little shore birds on our way north, found sea glass walking both directions (35 pieces by the time you read), and heard five sirens and met a couple of friends and dogs we know on our way home on the inner road. A log truck drove off the road and into a muddy bank. I don’t know how that went or if anyone died. I will not even know by Friday morning.