A perfect day: clear skies, temperature in mid-seventies, light winds, made even better by the first paddle out of the season.  We were working on re-glazing some of the 20-odd, 60- year-old windows on the little hacienda this morning and I kept glancing up to check the water as it headed toward low tide.  An unspoken rule here is that any and all work can be temporarily abandoned for waves.  In the early stages of the remodel, it was pretty much fifty-fifty.  Not that bad anymore; it’s eighty/twenty in favor of the ocean  now, primarily because most of the heavy lifting is done around here.  Just upkeep now.  Anyway, we’ve been waiting for the right combination of water and air temperature, and a decent enough swell, to get back into things.

Pulled on the old spring suit and did some stretches on the beach, then easy paddle out to the line-up at the outer bar.  Water probably 65, not unpleasant after first plunge through an incoming.  Could tell right away the effects of the long winter.  Very out of breath when I made it out.  Waves in the 2-3 foot range, glassy, with the wind starting to pick up a little from the northeast.  Let two nice ones roll under me to gauge speed and strength, then paddled for third wave of that set and missed it.  No arms at all.  Every year it takes a little longer to get back into some kind of shape, but it’s a gradual, fun thing you’re not aware of because you’re out there, and it’s the best conditioning exercise I know of.

Caught the next one, a three footer that died after a few seconds.  Not much juice to these, which was a good thing.  Back out for two more, my self-imposed limit for today, panting like crazy with spaghetti arms, then headed in.  Showered off in the outside shower, and for about fifteen minutes thought I might croak, but recovered nicely, thank you, and started to feel the old euphoria.  Daily now, as conditions warrant.

* * *

In the sun eating a home-made burrito garnished with cilantro, dill, and parsley from the garden, and guess who showed up again.  Yep, the little flying iridescent beetle, and this time I have a witness.  He landed on my leg this time, and just sat there.  I stuck out an index finger and he climbed up on it and sat there for, I swear, fifteen minutes without moving.  It would have been longer, but I finally got up and took him over to the Bougainvillea and gently deposited him there.  If this keeps up I’m going to have to name him.

* * *