Wednesday, January 24, 2007

I'm developing the habit of making a journal entry fairly early in the day, as soon as I can wrest control of the computer from the hands of my web-entranced husband, :>) and before the network collapses for the night. I'm not sure what happens, but Internet in the Evening doesn't seem to be on the menu here.

We rode out to the airport today- a fine ride, I thought. When we got there, we turned left down a packed dirt landing strip, toward the horse that had just wandered over - from where? I didn't see a farm. Anyway, we cycled down the runway, admired the horse. He had a brown head and hind quarters, and a tiny, English-sized saddle of brown, and the rest of him was white. He was very attractive. "What colour brown is that?" I said to R, thinking ahead to when I would want to describe the horse in my journal. "Horsey brown". There you go.

We turned left again at the other end of the runway, explored a couple of streets neither of us had seen before. We found a very settled RV park that seems to operate rather like a condominium development, and a little neighbourhood of tiny concrete houses. I turned around there and started back up the road, heard loud barking behind me, found myself being chased down the road by an angry dog. I pedaled very, very fast, screaming and yelling "Not another bloody dog!" He wasn't fast enough to catch me. Heh. When he had given up and gone home, I slowed down and enjoyed the scenery. There were orange trees, lemon trees, key lime, and even grapefruit trees heavy with fruit, Christmas cactus, prickly pear - it's amazing what you'll find when you get off the main street and explore the inside of a town. There were signs pointing to a canyon, but one of our turns took us away from it. Maybe tomorrow we can check that out, after I do the laundry. Tomorrow night is our last night in San Carlos, and the washers here work very well, so I plan to take advantage.

I lay down this afternoon to take a little nap, woke up to the voice of the man who comes through the park every day selling - well, yelling, NEWSPAPERS!!!

....While I was writing, R came to the door, said he was going for a walk on the beach. I went with him. We walked south, enjoying the warmth. R saw a flock of pelicans having a beach party farther down, so we went to investigate. There must have been a school of tiny fish very close to shore, because there was standing room only. We watched the pelicans belly flopping in the shallow water, then R called "Dolphin - there!" I looked, and it surfaced again. Soon there were dolphins all over the place - some only thirty feet from shore - doing a lovely synchronized swimming routine. I finally decided to sit down on the beach and enjoy the show, but the show was moving north, so we followed it. Eventually the dolphins went on their way, but the pelicans, gulls, terns, all the winged denizens of this part of the gulf kept right on fishing. R laughed at a brown bird with a long, straight bill that swam along with its head under the water, searching, searching like a librarian hunting for a misplaced volume. I had to stop and change course to avoid running right into a pelican that stood on the beach, completely oblivious of my presence. We met a couple of couples walking on the beach, and R recited the pelican poem for them.

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