The wonders of Photoshop? No, a crazily sunny hour between torrential rains down at Asilomar, where we weathered a fine, exhilerating storm. High winds and surf, incredible curtains of rain, and even lightning and thunder just before dawn. It felt wonderfully cozy in the big old stone and dark wood park buildings, which have surely weathered some historic storms, with implacable grandfather-like calm. We read by the big fireplace in the lobby (which reminded me of the lobby at Lake Lodge in Yellowstone where my Father taught me to play ping-pong one long-ago rainy afternoon), and holed up in our room with lamps and wooden floors and windows on two sides looking out into sturdy oak branches, venturing out only to eat fish—and then to wander down the dunes to watch a silver sheet of sandpipers on the beach when the clouds had blown away. A perfect retreat. I would have loved to stay a week to walk and write and feel my mind clear.
image: Christie B. Cochrell, Asilomar Beach
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