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It grew cold, and the world closed in around the dark rocks, but the boom of the surf grew louder and the exploding surf shone whiter. The sun was a milky orb in the low sky, and to the right of where I stood, the long breakers and withdrawing water was a world of silver and white glint.

Saw Bob Bird out there; on way back I stopped at Clough's yard to water their rock garden. Home for supper of hamburger, beets, lettuce, rice & canned peas with parmesian cheese. The surf was rolling into the channel in front of the house. The moon rose over the spruces. It was cold, and I squeezed out my acrylics & painted the big surf under the gas lamp in the living room.