A walk along the path that wends it's way along the bluffs of Bolsa Chica Estuary, on an early, mist laden, February morning is a walk through a gallery of art, lit with filterd light. It must be taken at a liesurly pace. There are pieces of living art that only now begin to struggle from the stupor that has crept into the very fiber of living things. Through the mist a vague shape begins to come into focus. A little closer and it takes on deffinit form...a bird. It's feathers lofted against the cold and mist it is waiting. Suddenly the mist parts and the Sun casts a beam onto the bird. The art, in it's finest, is revealed. Such hues, values, tints and shades. One of the galleries finest is now on display. One must stop and take it in. But not for long. The Sun has infused some warmth and life into the bird. It now takes to wing and is gone. No matter, it is now on record to be displayed, but not quite in the same light; yet it will recall some of the splendor just the same.
