Setting off through our parking lot, I looked to the South. Mist lying in the valley, catching the light. Beautiful. Peaceful. I could see my breath as I walked to the bay, Erick Baker’s Unbroken Promise playing on my ipod.
A hawk flew over the Audubon shelter, pursued by several sparrows. Nearing the beach, a tiny bird, scarcely bigger than a hummingbird, darted up the path out of sight.
One of those curious contrasting mornings — the bay tranquil, almost glass, the ocean’s rumble thunderous. A loon, wearing more subtle winter plumage, steadily waded away from me without alarm, a gentle wake trailing.
The fog still low in the valley, spread out from the edge of town, following the line of the dunes, slowly lifting, revealing trees, houses. Shangri-La.
Another hawk flew by as I sat on the dock. Broad wings, grace and strength. A while later, the heron left the trees behind me, heading across towards the dunes, speaking his farewell.
From the entrance in the middle, a couple emerged carrying a kayak. Within moments, they were in the water and well on their way, paddles synchronized perfectly, so that from my angle they appeared as one.
The hawk flew by once more, this time going deeper into the back bay. I lingered a little longer, feeling thankful, knowing I’m blessed, enjoying the early morning of another lovely day.