Surfing At Dusk

The other evening we took a walk down the narrow dirt road by our house. We carefully maneuvered around the deep potholes filled to the brim from the latest rain. I helped by keeping my eyes on the ground and calling out, “Poop!” whenever I spotted a pile on the little road. I didn’t want Isaiah, who likely had his eye to the camera, to miss it. Come to think of it, why was there so much of that on the road? Are the animals let out of their stone-walled pens for scenic hikes?

When I did pry my eyes away from ground vigilance I took in the gorgeous sight of the setting moon.

There were more pleasing sights at the beach: a horse and rider with a little dog, shadows over the water, and yes, even a group of dedicated surfers braving the cold waves at dusk. Even in wet suits we imagined they had to be quite numb in the March waters.

But maybe the beauty of their surroundings was enough to warm them to the core. As it was for us.

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