327 Market

I am cleaning my room, can you tell?

The H and I just went to the beach at Davenport. We had it to ourselves. The day was perfect. Air, clear. The waves were huge and dramatic, incessant-- disappearing into the grottos in the cliff only to burst out of another opening, with the force of a fire hydrant. The oxsalis on the hillsides was riotiously yellow. More yellow than even yellow. Uberyellow. Cliffs, large, imposing, like the sides of battleships, immemorially old and massive and steep. Damp with the rains, oozing life and moss and green and lambs-ears and liverwort. We had to nearly get on our hands and knees to make the descent.

The garbage from a drunken debauch was nearly as epic. The beach was strewn with TP and empty beer cans, mysterious circles of stones, found a queen of spades card nested in one minilith, bottles with yellow liquid... we picked up as much as we could carry.

note to self, bring bags to the beach in the future, and gloves. humans are pigs.