The goose and I hit the cove bright and early. We climbed up the cliff to the "cave" and admired the choppy, choppy waters and bluer than blue sky.
We spent hours. HOURS. Hours combing through mad piles of rock in search of heart shaped stones and snail shells (sea snails).
We skipped rocks in the creek and toed our way into the water until we didn't feel numb anymore. We then splish-sploshed up the creek into a quiet magical place where I learned I could be a damsel-fly whisperer. It was quiet and pretty and warm and perfect.
We trekked our way to the other side of the beach, cutting our feet on the rocky-rocks until we couldn't go any further. It was there we discovered a plethora of snail shells and other tiny treasures.
Four hours of rock hunting found us in the now running-Rodney chomping on cheese, crackers and fruit as we prepped for our next stop, The Shell Shop. After, we hit up Morro Rock and marveled in the softer than soft sand and simply lay in the sun, ears open to the waves.
It took numerous flappity-flaps of my hat to get the sand out. My shoes are STILL wet and even after a round of showers we still found our heads full, our skin pink and our toes tired fro mall that beachy goodness. When we got home, dinner was already ready and that picky goose-girl ate everything on her plate! Tomorrow, will be an indoor day. I could use one of those.