Sean Slavin Photography

There was a small break between storms yesterday evening. Took the girls for a short walk around the harbor. The wind was howling and the ocean was foul but the sun peeked out at the right times and the jetty was filled with looky-loos.

Big rains always flush all kinds of unpleasant things into my playground. The stuff you can see is worrisome enough. The real worry for me is always the stuff you can't see. Needless to say, I won't be getting in for a surf anytime soon.

It's always the smallest simplest things that bring incredible joy to children. Puddle jumping is one of those things. Why? I don't know but I'm learning that it falls into the same category as stopping to smell the roses. There's no better way to revert to your childhood as jumping in puddles.

As I mentioned yesterday, it's raining cats and dogs here. The sound is most unpleasant. All that meowing and barking. All that rain means lots of puddles. Lots of big puddles.

Before the rain actually started, Bec and I promised the girls we'd go puddle jumping. A couple of days ago, we did. The results were fantastically wet and muddy but as I just mentioned, it's the simple things that have the biggest, and most lasting, effect.

Crazy day here in SoCal. I was working at home. Just after lunch, Dillen came sprinting up to me with words falling out of her mouth at a million miles per hour. Once I got her RPMs dialed back, I found out we were under a tornado warning. Tornado warning? Here? No way. It was for real but I had to chuckle since the warning message being broadcasted was telling everyone to get in their basements if a tornado actually touched down. Basement? In SoCal? Come on.

Much to my chagrin, no tornados appeared. The girls failed to understand my disappointment and I failed to explain it to them. Just an enormous amount of rain, wind, more rain, more wind.

As the rain fell outside, the kinetic energy inside went up and up. By 3pm the girls, and the puppy, were vibrating. Containment was becoming negligible. By 4, they were literally bouncing off the ceiling. Jackets. Shoes. Dog. Leash. Camera. Down to the harbor to run the wiggles out. We got to the harbor and the energy was released. The girls left leaving Bec and I in a swirl of shock waves.

Bec was kind enough to let me wander behind and took off to catch the girls. A fog lifted. My head cleared. And I fell into a groove. I didn't need a lot of time. I knew what I was after. I didn't shoot much, just wanted I needed to satisfy the craving.

My father. Rediscovering a lost passion. A rediscovery brought on by granddaughters who asked a simple question, "Will you teach us how to draw?"

Swell started to fade a bit today. Headed back out to the same spot I've been the past few days. I had it basically to myself except for a couple of spongers and some pelicans. The quiet was nice. Meditative.

Same spot as yesterday afternoon. Felt slightly bigger but it could have just been the dropping tide. There's nothing like standing in chest deep water looking up at a 12' wall about to dump on your head. Fun times.

Yesterday afternoon, as I was running along my favorite stretch of beach, I realized that was going to be a great spot for the swell that was supposed to arrive today. As I headed out this afternoon, I wasn't sure if things were going to be working but a quick glance down the cliff was all I needed. It was working and working good.

I spent about an hour or so swimming around with the camera. There was quite a bit of water moving so staying in the "sweet" spot sometimes felt like an exercise in futility. Not all was lost and I came out with a handful of keepers to share.