With all of this in mind, we slathered and packed up for a day at the beach this weekend on a beautifully steamy day. We brought our sasquatch along for kicks and giggles, and headed down to dog beach.
We live about 10 miles inland from the ocean, which is hardly more than a fart in the breeze. But on certain days when the climate is behaving in an extraordinarilly o-beach-ian manner, that 10 miles is akin to the difference between Jupiter and Mars. Between Almond Joy and Mounds. Between summer and winter.
We drove west out of the sunshine, and straight into the frog:
Adding to the surreal soup of the day was the extreme low tide; offering warm, shallow pools and lots of inviting mud
how could one not run and jump here?
So the slathering of sunscreen was probably for naught, and it was not quite the soaking up of the sun's rays that we had hoped for before we lapse into full winter beach mode, but it was pretty cool out there.
And some things, thankfully, do not change in the face of a changing climate:
As we headed east towards the sunshine and home, I looked back down Newport at the thick marine layer hugging our beach. It's like a line in the sky: