Sunday. March 17. Seventy-two degrees. Barely a breath of wind. Not a single cloud.
And Furrydoc and I walked barefoot on that warm, pristine sand with the dogs. We didn’t write that message in the first photo, but we sure shared the exuberance that inspired somebody to do it.
Beaches in this part of the world are commonly socked in or howling with wind (or both) at any time of year. A day like this would be a rare treat, even in July or August. In March? It’s a miracle!
My favorite moment was rounding a curve in the cliffs and seeing the distant hills packed with snow while we dug our toes into cozy sand.
Sorry, Midwesterners. I really don’t mean to gloat; I’ve been where you are. But this is sooooo gloatworthy. (And now some Floridian or Costa Rican — not naming any names here — will pipe up to gloat their beach experiences at me. 🙂 )