Letting Go of The Day

When Music and I got out of the car, we discovered that the beach was beautifully occupied. Yes, the birds were there, but here was a couple ensconced in folding chairs...bundled up against the chill...their feet protruding into seagull space.

I was peripheral, as I often am...observer...subtle recorder of their idyll. I surmised that they were escapees of The Peter Anderson Festival: an annual arts and crafts event that brings many thousands to our peaceful town. They must be out-of-towners; locals would not have chairs.