It has been an April sort of day, with thick clouds spitting rain on the spring flowers and on Miss Sadie, the Cowboy and me. We made one circuit of Eden Shores and came to a decision. It would be prudent to move away from the trees that creaked and twisted in the wind. We headed down to the Bay. It was a fine day for a run on the beach, sand in our hair, lake in our shoes. We watched gulls rocket past as if they’d been thrown from a slingshot. They tumbled and spun and turned around and flew back, into the wind this time, defying probability. No one else was down there. Imagine that.