Two November days on a familiar beach served to remind me that everything changes, and a beach, perhaps, most of all.
Tiny animal holes dot the wet sand.
The surface of the beach is pretty empty,
except for a few remnants of life. Like this brilliant piece of seaweed.
Or this lovely mussel shell resting against a twig.
Or this delicate little crab, a few of its legs and much of its color washed away by sun and surf.
Tire tracks broke the beach into a system of unnecessary trails.
and Esau warns of impending danger.
On the way home, a gull looks out over Mecox Bay.
The next day, there’s not an air hole to be found. Instead, beach stones lie strewn on the wet sand.
Among the stones is a golden egg.
Is this the gull that laid the golden egg?
A peculiar cartilaginous skeleton lies on the sand. Reader, any guesses as to identity?
A solitary swimmer braves the icy waters,
and Esau leaves footprints wherever he goes.