Our Beach

Ours is normally the only car parked in the 7-space lot nestled among the scrub next to stairs that lead over the dunes to the beach. Three tiers climb up over the tightly packed barrier of green, three down. 

Once we get to the open sand we can only see other people as a very distant specks, North or South, no more than a handful.

We own the beach and the ocean there. All of it belongs to us. Carla, Rufus and I splash along as the surf runs over our feet. The three of us simpatico with the sea.

Chica is busy with the Sandpipers though. She's in charge, making sure they keep moving, no loitering allowed.

Another half mile down A1A on the West side, is our second stop. A mini-park.  Nobody there either. Expansive views out over the marsh, and a well maintained trail looping through the scrub. The dogs scout ahead to clear the path of danger. This time it was a little brown rabbit. He looked like he could do some real damage if he wanted to, but luckily for us, apparently he had an appointment and had to run.