The sun reaches this tidal meadow late on November mornings. Only a light hoar frost coats the grass and dead stalks of cow parsnip in the shaded parts. Plants in full light for more than a few minutes sparkle with melted frost than go dull as they dry in the sun. Again I try to catch the magic, shinny things when still frost white. Again I fail.
We walk over a low hill to Aki’s favorite pocket beach, where we have watched sea lions, harlequin ducks, and sometimes whales from a sunny rock bench. Today only we find a murder of crows skulking on the beach. They still manage some beauty as they fly around the point, croaking a protest or maybe a curse as they go.