Duct Taped Mourning

SWR report
June 3, 2008

Wasn’t it ee cummings who wrote “up at does”? And so, we were up at dawn – even a little earlier – woken by the doves while nestled in our camp surrounded by wild raspberries and tall grass – the stars still fierce in their fire and the drone of the distant hi-ways – but the tide is right for only a short while and so, in that early dawn light that gleams a soft gray upon the silky oily glassy water, we drove to Cowell’s hoping it to be the best break in consideration of that magical mix of tide, swell and wind, so giving to an early good surf. The waves below the bluffs peeled like bicycle spokes spinning a small two foot glassy bar of bold blue. We slid down the long reaching shoulders toward the pier – we came in on our bellies, on our knees, on our toes, switching stances, walking up and down the deck like leisurely strolls along a boardwalk, hanging toes above the nose, doing handstands, praying buddhas, and posing classic surfing stances. And so the German girl sitting atop the golden bluffs in that early up at does morning was overheard saying in a sharp diligent accent, “I like a the wey those twoo surfer dudes move along on their boards.”

Happy Birthday Daphne Erin Linker!