The sun shines bright from a clear blue sky and dances on top of salty waves.
Thereby lies the problem.....the waves are being created by a bitterly cold wind.
There is a battle of the seasons going on and Winter is still winning.
In these parts Spring has to share her timeslot with a stubborn Winter.
Then one day...poof...they will both be gone and Summer will reign triumphant.
The top of the dike is littered with mussel shells.
Seagulls pluck mussels from the sparkling water
and shock them into opening by dropping them on the black basalt rocks that form the dike.
Voila dinner is served.
Trouble is I have a rusty pup who thinks the leftover shells are delicious.
Surely that's not good for the digestion.
A cemetery crowns the rounded hill beyond the dike.
Oh, the stories those stones and the occupants of that hill could tell
about life in this valley over the centuries.
I've always loved social history.
Way off in the distance at the end of this dike is where Champlain and his men landed in 1604.