I can’t twist the truth, it knows no regulation – Bob Dylan, Eve of Destruction.
Heathcliff weather today. When Lily and I took our morning walk, the rain was light, but the wind was a fist in the face. The ocean was all chop and foam and the air tasted salty. Few people out and Lily was the only dog tough enough, though to be completely honest, she did suggest returning home whenever we came to a fork in the road. But she didn’t insist. Because the wind on the cliff was so strong, we turned inland and took the Bethany path home through the neighborhoods. Flooded gutters below us and sodden crows above.
I have a confession. The bottom steps at Its Beach have not washed away, because of course they haven’t. I was operating under the Holmes dictum, when you have eliminated the impossible, etc etc. This reasoning led me to an erroneous conclusion and once I posted it, I became a Fake Newser. I don’t like the company I’m keeping. So here is the real story: The sand shifted so profoundly that a four foot drop to the beach opened up. The stairs are all still there. They just hover above the ground.