Peter A. Morris

... except this was more of a laze.  Hard to believe this is the first week in February, 2012, or any year, come to that.  I had walked to Dallas Road in a biting easterly wind, then ducked down to the lower walk, and was soon peeling off my heavy jacket and was sweating.  With the sun shining out of a cloudless sky, and protected from the wind here, it could almost have been summer!  I was going to find a log to sit on, but the tide was high and there was an empty bench, so there I stayed. 

As I gazed around, I was surprised at the lack of wildlife, not even a bird in sight for quite a few minutes.  Then I saw one - a lone bufflehead!  I hauled out my binoculars and had another, closer look, but there were no more birds.  Unusual, as there was normally a variety of seabirds here.  I looked up - no gulls either.  A dearth of wildlife in all directions.  I couldn't figure it out, but concluded there must be good feed elsewhere, so I just enjoyed my sunbathe.

The offshore breeze was leaving pools of contrasting colour among the greens and blues of the sea.  As it touched the surface, skipping and dancing, it changed the tints to darker and lighter, making a pasteboard of colours and sheens.  Then three seagulls flew over, obviously on a mission; they did not stop, but headed over to the point.  Since I was enjoying basking in the sun, I really did not mind what happened!

The sky was crystal, and the coastline clear from Royal Roads around to Race Rocks Lighthouse. One could continue one's gaze around the Olympic Mountains via the Juan de Fuca Strait.  There was just one ship in sight, way out in the Strait, waiting for the tide to change before heading over Seattle way.

Along the path came a gentleman with an impressive dog, to whom I gave an admiring glance, and was surprised when the dog stopped dead in his tracks and looked at me, as though he had read my thoughts, "I suppose you want to go and meet him eh?" the owner said to the hound, and the dog came straight up to me as though I had called him.  "They know when someone likes them," said the owner, and we made friends and had a nice visit.  The dog, a bouvier/schnauzer cross, decided after a while it was time to move on; the owner, being well trained, followed behind.

A gentle swell was coming onto the beach, a low swish swish of waves, and as I listened to the rhythm I was hearing another sound, like voices.  Three people were singing a capella, an old English folk song.  It was a most beautiful sound, with the wash of the waves in the background. It stirred my heart and filled my eyes with the joy of this beautiful gift - one I would have missed had I not taken time to visit the beach.