The little town of Marina on the coast just North of Monterey is home to a quiet little airport we’ve visited a few times. On the outskirts is a Cement plant with this enigmatic rusty old dredge that seems to be maintaining a small beach side pond.
The colors of Salinas River not far beyond delight the soul with impressions of silence augmented by bird song and surf.
Here and there we saw individuals and groups horseback along the beach, and this woman alone trying to coax her reluctant ride to feel the foam.
There was another white horse on the balcony of the old antique shop across from the Post Office on the edge of Moss Landing, but it doesn’t move.
I’d never seen this next view of the iconic little town until a couple of years ago. Yet it somehow evokes memories of my youth exploring this town with dates, or glimpsing the power plant smokestacks from Hwy.1 or the more distant 101 freeway. So much has changed, yet so little.
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