{"id":9310,"date":"2025-02-11T06:40:21","date_gmt":"2025-02-11T14:40:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/?p=9310"},"modified":"2025-02-11T06:40:22","modified_gmt":"2025-02-11T14:40:22","slug":"frosty-dawn-at-the-beach","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/meditations\/frosty-dawn-at-the-beach\/","title":{"rendered":"Frosty Dawn at the Beach"},"content":{"rendered":"<!-- wp:themify-builder\/canvas \/-->\n\n\n<p><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>At 6:38 on a dark Monday February morning, Elmer and I drove to the beach to begin our day. I always feel at my best when I see dawn materialize at the beach. It feels like a secret weapon because nobody else is ever there and that matters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>It was 32 degrees and frost covered everything near the ground.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I took it slow on the drive. We passed the high school where my high school teaching career ended. I did some good creative work there a decade ago, but it seems utterly irrelevant in the big picture today, as does almost my entire teaching career. That realization does not depress me; it sometimes excites my imagination what I could have done in other professional fields.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>We cruised across a slick bay bridge and I saw a homeless man walking in a narrow shoulder going against traffic. A mile later I saw another homeless man riding a bicycle and carrying cans.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>I didn&#8217;t turn on the radio to hear the morons on sports radio opine about yesterday&#8217;s Super Bowl. It was just me thinking about a Christmas tale I am currently writing, one set in Seaside that has really taken off in interesting directions I never could have foreseen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>One vehicle in the parking lot. Dammit!<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>No matter, everything was enshrouded in fog so I knew I wouldn&#8217;t see anyone to pollute my solitude with my great dog.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Elmer and I hit the trail to the beach, turned left at the jetty, and I beheld 14 lights of freighters offshore waiting for the right tide and decreased fog to begin their trip over the Columbia Bar.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Elmer and I traversed the dunes. A little light was emerging above the Coast Range.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>We jumped down a bank and onto the beach. I let Elmer off leash. He ran wild and so did I. I spotted a pickup truck parked in a weird place on the beach. I surmised it had been there all night, some fool who didn&#8217;t know the tides and realized he couldn&#8217;t drive to safety without washing away into the ocean. So he slept in his rig. He was probably still asleep.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Elmer did his thing at the wrack line. I did my thing at the ocean&#8217;s edge. I picked up two sand dollars and stuffed them in the pocket of my 30-year-old pea coat that I&#8217;ve worn walking 5000 miles or so down Oregon&#8217;s ocean beaches. It will outlast me and I know exactly who I am willing it to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>More light filled the sky. I saw a bald eagle fly overhead. That never gets old.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Elmer darted over and we began running and roughousing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>We went on for a couple of miles and then turned around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>It was time to go back to the city and deal with city matters. But I was fortified for all that entailed.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>At 6:38 on a dark Monday February morning, Elmer and I drove to the beach to begin our day. I always feel at my best when I see dawn materialize at the beach. It feels like a secret weapon because nobody else is ever there and that matters. It was 32 degrees and frost covered [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":9311,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5,32],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-9310","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-meditations","category-oregon-beaches","has-post-title","has-post-date","has-post-category","has-post-tag","has-post-comment","has-post-author",""],"builder_content":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9310","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=9310"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9310\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9313,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/9310\/revisions\/9313"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/9311"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=9310"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=9310"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=9310"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}