The second week we were at Stinson lifeguards spotted a 10-foot great white shark right off shore and shut down the whole beach. (Stinson is within miles of a marine sanctuary off the Farallon Islands, which is considered the world's largest breeding ground for great whites in the world). As a result we were forced to search for new adventures. Friends told us to head out past Bolinas to a sign that read Commonweal 451 and hike down the road to the sea. There, they said, we would find magic. They handed us a carefully annotated hand-drawm map, and the next morning we set off into the fog.
First the deer appeared.
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Then we found a little house.
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Full of offerings to people they beloved and dead, but not forgotten--poems, notes, folded pictures. Seashells, seaweed, pastel patterns on the walls.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0gaWSATn65rsLQjYaAZf_RD_vy4rjlNBSYawWoXjdKiV_Zay8lmOLG0A1tP4xUuw0NBpnNQOfZFGXDhkhGrkA-_5iQtsabl_wWeMO-nLZT-3wbTD6nbuGCmgHCBXHg938quCRiJyT8Es/s400/IMG_1111.JPG)
If I were a painter, this would be my picture.
1 comment:
lovely.
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