The sun finally came out this weekend and on Saturday and Sunday I visited the small Crescent Beach in nearby Surrey. I parked in a small lot and walked past cottages with impeccably groomed yards and brightly colored flowers that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Dr. Seuss book.

^ One thing I’ve noticed up here is that a lot of time is spent on yard maintenance. Carefully trimmed bushes, eloquent flower arrangements, and shaded arbors are the norm, rather than the exception.

A few beachfront shops selling fish and chips clustered around the main public beach. As with the aforementioned houses, the effect was almost laughably idyllic, like the ersatz city in The Truman Show. A long gravel walkway followed the beach in each direction, and I walked on this, away from the people. The sand disappeared and the beach got rockier.

I was almost alone here, a few hundred yards from the main beach. I passed a volume-enhanced Baby Boomer sitting on a towel reading a book. He was cross-legged. He was naked. I walked faster.

I found a large flat stone and stretched out on it. It was just warm enough to enjoy the sun.