I stepped out to walk the dog on this cool spring morning just after daybreak and caught the salt in the air—three to four miles from the Atlantic, close enough. It wasn’t sunrise. The light had already been swallowed by low clouds and fog.

I’ve never liked the easterly sea breeze this time of year. After a Maine winter that lingers too long, it keeps the cold in place. But the salt air still does its work. It wakes you up.

The dog moved ahead. I paused and listened. A gull called somewhere beyond the gray.

Life is good.

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