We took the dogs to the beach. The last time we were there it was high summer, hot and humid in that typical southern Ontario way. I slipped off my sandals and waded for a while to cool down while the dogs gambolled on the sand. Later, itchy, I remembered why you're not supposed to wade in Lake Ontario in the warm weather.
Today it was far too cold for wading – a fact not lost on Flash, who bounded into the lake and, shocked, bounded right back out again. Insulted by the cold water, he stood and barked at the waves until he got distracted by something – a piece of driftwood, maybe, or another dog. Hard to tell. He's a rather inscrutable hound.
We walked eastward, into the wind. The dogs' ears fluttered like flags. Walking with my head down against the wind, I found piece after piece of beach glass glinting in the sand, a handful of tiny bits of blue and green and white, and I remembered someone telling me that the best time to find beach glass is at a full moon. Perhaps I'll go back on Sunday to see what else I can find to augment my collection.
Finally we turned around, and walking with the wind at our backs made all the difference. Suddenly it felt like the sort of day that, if you were sitting in a sheltered spot, you could almost pretend was warm enough for an ice cream cone. Almost, but not quite. Instead, we drank tea from insulated mugs cradled in mittened hands and urged the dogs along, ready to get back to the relative warmth of the car.