FW Some thoughts at the end of the day

It's amber sunset behind the path. A stream flows past and cuts down the staircase of water falls, between the cliffs, and then out, on into the sea. Gulls cry and call above the murmur and boom of waves on the rocks. Cool breezes turn chilly with the setting sun, the water darkens and grays. The tide will soon be coming in, but at the base of the cliffs we wander looking for mussels before returning home.

But mussels are best found where the waves beat on rocks, and everywhere here is open sand or cliff. So maybe out there by that big rock, standing like piece of the cliff broken off? We wade across the stream, rolled up pants, cold water getting chillier as the tide comes in. A few morsels, but nothing large enough to take. Erin climbs up the rock, laughing and exclaiming when she slips. David takes off towards the other direction loping along on his tall legs. Dad goes on further, determined to find some mussels. Mom and the other girls are getting cold, and start to head back. It's getting dim.

We come to the stream, deeper and wider now, and get soaked going back. David runs up excited: he's found a good spot, a precarious bit of rock right around the edge of the cliff. Dad gets out his flashlight, hands a screwdriver to David for prying mussels, and I get the bucket. The girls head back up to the van to dry out and get warm.

Crouched on the outcropping they hack at the mussels while I stand with the bucket, watching for big waves in the blackness. Some slap up around our legs, and others simply wash over us. After the second one of those, we figure it's time to go while we still can.

Back in the van the heater's on high. We are all soaked, but warm. Wrapped in wool blankets and smelling like the sea, we drive home telling stories along the way.