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Golf on the Lost Coast – Shelter Cove

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A tidbit of flash fiction to accompany my photos.

“How late can I order the Fish and Chips?”

“Four-thirty, but I’d check with Scott in the bar before you get settled. It’s a week night but they could run out,” answered Carla, the campground hostess, as she handed back my credit card. “I put you in spot 12 next to the Tim. He’s real quiet, you’ll hardly notice him.”

“Okay, thanks,” I said shoving the card ...

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Clear the air—Fire Storm to Brain Storm

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With coffee set to brew, I water the garden. Sunday, we had picnicked on the coast, fanned by a gentle breeze. Monday night the winds churned in crazy directions. Now Tuesday morning the sky is smoky-brown as I spray the plants. Soon, I would learn that Santa Rosa was on fire.

It’s hard to describe the reaction when a loud speaker atop a Sheriff’s car is demanding that you leave your home NOW. The ...

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