|Decorated in a half lei with end of summer roses by The Girl.|
Smile big, Auntie Sarah!
The ancient Greeks noticed that summer’s most intense heat occurred during the approximate 40-day period in the early summer when Sirius, the brightest star in the sky, rose and set with the sun.
...Due to a wobble in the Earth’s rotation that shifts the position of the stars in the night sky, the dates of the “dog days” now fall several weeks later on the calendar than they did thousands of years of ago. (AskHistory.com)
Now you know.
Down on the Lost Coast at Jones Beach, the weather has its own pattern. Foggy, chilly, damp and beautiful. We got down there after dark and setting up the tent in the beam of a flashlight where the minuscule fog drops danced like snow in a globe, with the occasional plops of drops that had gathered on eucalyptus leaves above falling like surprise.
|How early morning looked.|
Lots of fog, no elk.
|Part of the Lost Coast Trail that goes to Jones Beach|
We camped about 20 yards from this path.
|It seemed like the fog might lift but it didn't.|
I've been at Jones Beach when the sun was shining (it was colder then) and it is magnificent, a grove of massive eucalyptus trees, wide golden meadows and the Pacific in glittering glory. Foggy is just another facet to enjoy. So we did.
|Up early I got a fire going so we'd be set up for coffee and breakfast.|
|One by one every sleepyhead joined me.|
|Sausage links from a local, sustainable and organic farm around here.|
|Starting to send that wafty smell of firewood and food|
|Eggs from Dave and Ines's chickens|
with sharp cheddar cheese, red bell peppers and onions.
Forgetting the spatula turned out just fine!
After a close to lick the skillet clean, it was area clean up and breaking down camp, we headed down to the beach.
|I love this dragon!|
|New signage since last here.|
|The easy part of the walk; after that, no photos|
since I wanted both hands in case of slippage or slidage.
|Ah! There she is!|
|I want to take all of this huge driftwood and put them in my pocket.|
My mental pocket does pretty well.
|Seaweeds of many kinds decorate the black sand|
|This curious seal kept popping up closer and closer|
until he wisely moved back out to sea.
|How many kinds of seaweed are here? It was so beautiful!|
|There is a fast moving freshwater creek that comes from the top|
directly down to the sands. I could have played there a long time
but the tide was coming in. It was time to go.
A bus ride to San Francisco (because that's the only way to get there from here unless you find someone going to 'the city'), a train ride to New York. Then I'll figure out the real homeward bound part of the journey.
Dog days indeed! Arf!
Have a mellow Monday. Do something mollifyingly moving.