Point Reyes, early in the spring. Impending storm, power lines on Lucas Valley Road swinging wildly back and forth in the wind, whole hillsides moving, rippling chaparral. Road almost empty as we head north towards McClure’s Beach. Dark farmhouses, the first ones there, like outbuildings on some Scottish highland. A stand of elk—majestic—nestled into the hill. Path down to the water, wild spray flying from the crests of the waves… The Mazurkas--beginning of it all…
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