Magpies

So now I am 68 years old, I mused to myself as I went out to watch the sunrise and do my morning Tai Chi.  A narrow band of clouds along the eastern horizon again sent reflections upward, as it had yesterday, but I could see a bright gleam trying to break through.

By mid-morning, the clouds had completely vanished and the beach beckoned to us; we are both reading Tana French books now, and that is the perfect place to settle down with a good book (and her fourth and fifth books are even better than the first three).  And today is a rest day for me between a fast run and a long run.  Others had the same idea, bright chairs scattered here and there, and by afternoon it had warmed enough to bring out surfers down near the pier, riding the occasional wave, most but not all of them wearing wet suits.

Some new neighbors arrived sometime last night while we were out celebrating at the restaurant:  a flock of magpies (as in, "a person who chatters noisily").  We have been here seven weeks now and the few residents around us have been very quiet; the walls and ceilings are also well-insulated.  But these magpies are right next door, and they left the sliding door to their balcony open as they chattered and laughed.  It was hard not to smile in understanding; being here puts people in vacation mode, brings out the excited child in many of us, and it is not unusual to see grown men sporting attire they would never be seen in at the office, clutching little bags of shells.  Around 10:00 p.m., they all winged their way down to the (unheated) outside pool, towels draped around their swimsuits, and noisily tried to open the gate without success.  Someone left behind on the balcony thought this was hilarious and shouted after them to "Use the Code!" (there is no coded lock on the pool gate).  Unable to gain access, they disappeared down the walkway to the beach, fluttering a little in the walkway lights as they disappeared.  I must have been asleep by the time they returned to their nest.