A Day By the Shore

Growing up I never fully appreciated living along the southern coast of California. I often daydreamed of trotting down autumn lanes ablaze in red and gold foliage, of waking early in the December twilight to find the backyard blanketed in snow. But during the summer months, when the clear blue sky is almost indistinguishable from the sea, and the sultry heat is tempered by a soft breeze off the ocean, it's positively sublime. Brett and I took a stroll down the pier last week, pausing to watch waves roll toward a shoreline dotted with bright umbrellas. There's a forties style diner at the end of it, a nice spot for sea-gazing, milkshakes and the hum of big band swing. We came here on a late November evening nearly three years past on our first date. It's quite different then, when the crowds of summer have gone - a place of wind and waves and cold salty spray, warmed by the glow of lamplight against the darkened sea. As much as our little pier is the emblem of summer, it always reminds me a bit of autumn - which is to my surprise just around the corner once again.