It's a pristine day in Morro Bay!
Our little household makes a corporate decision to walk down to the Pacific Ocean.
And we do just that!
(The distance is less than a half-mile.)
On our return trip, I focused on the vegetation:
Our lunch conversation goes something like this: "Look, I see another one way out there!"
"Wow, there were two more!"
(I wish I could illustrate this narrative with photos, Viewer Dear, but I'm having a hard time just spotting the plumes of water for myself. They are far too distant and fleeting to capture on camera!)
Following lunch, we drive by a drugstore to stock up on cold medication. Sadly, Reader Dear, a serpent has entered my Garden of Eden in the form of a virus! (I picked it up from the smiling Bro-in-Law, who earlier picked it up from his wife; but we are managing to stall the slimy slither-er in his ruinous endeavor by popping pills!)
We drive along the coast once again, and stop at a small beach:
I spend a long time lying on my back in the sand, the warm sun pouring over me, dreaming that when I open my eyes the world will have changed. Never again will there be "an icy mix" or war, anymore.
Before the foursome climbs back into the car and heads out for our last good sights of the Pacific Ocean washing onto the shore, I gather mementos off the beach, and ponder how many will be making a transcontinental journey.