notes from the kelp

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The clouds have become “Unhinged.”

Like a powerful invader, thick fog pushed hard against our cliffs and blew through the canyon yesterday. Quite oddly, this visitor refused to leave, persisting from morning to sunset. Our ocean fog banks usually burn off in the noontime sun; this day was eerily different. My afternoon beach walk became an exploration through unfamiliar territory, as a pulsing white scrim turned everything I thought I knew about Paradise Cove’s reality into a mystery.

The sea had pulled out. Large oily tufts ripped from the kelp beds were strewn along the tide line, the result of the pounding surf that had lulled me to sleep the night before. The air was simultaneously warm and cool and the beautiful and lurid smell of decomposing plants rose up to meet every misty kiss. The sound of the beach seemed somewhat deadened, and in its place was the heightened visual of a world that after all these years was once again new to me.

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