25A sea breeze ruffled my hair and teased at my skirt. The temperature was a balmy seventy degrees. Afternoon sun toasted the crown of my head and the tops of my feet.
The rays warmed my bare shoulders despite the mild wind. Nature was caressing my skin.
I stood on pavement at the top of a bluff and breathed in salt air. A mat of glossy-green iceplant covered the dirt in front of me.
Twenty feet below the cliff edge, the white crest of a sneaker wave slid over a long, flat stretch of sand and crossed the high water mark.
The wave crashed against a pitted formation of rock, half-buried in sand. The water receded, leaving a puddle behind in a rock crevice.
It was three o’clock on Sunday afternoon. The tide would be high in another hour. Tide pools farthest inland would fill with saltwat
