It was hard to imagine how it would all get cleaned up, watching the thick piles of charred debris from the wildfires steadily growing along the beach.
But each time the tide went out, and the spring sun burst free from the hazy smoke, the black mounds dried out and reminded us what they always were: ash. Lighter than tiny, black feathers, it floated across the beach, collecting around the vegetation and filling every footprint.
Even Jimin & Myrtle’s tiny tracks!
