I've Given Up on Winter

Aside from a week long cold snap about a month back this winter has been a globally warmed over joke.   Today, I finally stopped pretending.  Shorts, tee shirt, birkenstocks, and off we went for a nature walk along the coast.  It was embarrassingly perfect, pellucid, body temperature air scented with brine, the distant rumble of surf smashing into the sand spit, clouds of birds wheeling over the glistening low tide bay.  I didn't take any pictures, not because they wouldn't have done it justice but because I'd forgotten my phone.  I'd have taken twenty or so pics, none of which would have done the job so they'd have stayed on the phone.  But they'd exist.

Fuss clambered over the railing of the viewing platform to scramble around in front of the 'keep out of the sensitive wetlands' sign collecting handfuls of croutons which had been ignored by choosy birds.  They played a part in several games- first, "Flour, Powder or Butter", where he would crush a cube beneath his sandal and I would decide if it were flour ("worth ten points,), powder ("worth 2,000 points") or butter ("worth 10,000 points").

Actually, for the first few rounds it was "Flour or Powder", butter being a later addition following his discovery of several double-sized croutons hidden in the marsh grass.

The final variation involved him 'rolling' a handful of croutons across the boardwalk like dice, then asking "Dada, do you think these bread crumbs can survive my FEROCIOUS DANCING?"

He gave them a fair shake, counting to five while doing a combination skank/Celtic line dance.

Our supply of bread crumbs dwindled along with the light of the setting sun, and he predictably made me carry him back to the car "way up high" on my shoulders, pleading "a tired leg" following his enthusiastic flouring, powdering and buttering of several dozens of innocent croutons.

The sunset was lovely, and I wish I'd remembered my camera even knowing it would have failed me.

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