The temperature started out in the mid sixties, and increased as the morning overcast cleared off. The wind was light and out of the east.
When we got to the park, there were a few kids grooming the dunes to go dune-boarding.
We climbed a dune and had a little picnic. Here's what I wrote in my Book of Art:
We are secluded in a cleft between pines at the dune's peak. Two three-wheelers whine in the distant dunes, growing louder as they crest a near-by dune. The wind whispers through the pines and scotch broom. Dark clouds scud by, alternating grey with blue, and the sunlight and wind dictate layer changes every ten minutes.
Overhead, a keening osprey carries a fish. Other birds twitter in the brush and unseen hummingbirds zip nearby. From the lake at the foot of the dune, a woman shrieks about how cool the water is. A dog barks, and the three-wheelers have returned, revving as they complete another lap along the dunes.
Wind rushes over the trees and grass, erasing the other sounds.
Later we went on a short hike to the edge of the park where the three-wheelers were. Along the way we ran into some scotch broom. I know it makes a lot of allergy sufferers miserable, but it does smell nice, and it reminded me of peas or snap-dragons.
There were some with red flowers, so I took their picture, singing, "Lay the bend to the bonny broom" all the while.