Point Lobos Avenue, Winter

One morning after a stretch of rainy weather, I took a walk out to the ocean. It’d been awhile since I’d last traveled that way—maybe more than a week?—and I was in need of some fresh, crisp air.

As I walked, the sun broke through the clouds. Its warmth permeated my clothes, settling on my skin and percolating into my bones. I luxuriated in the warmth. Graced by the sun, my strides became relaxed and my pace picked up.

I eventually made my way out of the avenues and their houses, passing Land’s End to make the wide, slow curve south. The bright sands of Ocean Beach stretched before me, bordered by waves to my right and cliffs to my left.

On a whim, I turned back to face the road I’d come from.

Such a blue sky looked uncharacteristically intense for winter. If the air wasn’t so crisp, I might have imagined that spring had arrived. At this early hour, there were few people about. The air was quiet except for the waves teased by a brisk, cool breeze. The morning light cast picturesque shadows in lazy shapes. Green growth crept up the cliff face. There was a delicate perfection to the scene before me, almost like a painting. Even the lone car up by the Cliff House had a picturesque quality to it.