We're staying in a family beach house a short walk from the sea.
The glass doors are so clean I have to put pink Post-its on them to remind me that they're there. 
Hummingbirds, who can't read, sometimes fly into them. It's a short walk to a beautiful beach on Monterey Bay.
You head down a small canyon and run under this railroad trestle. You move hastily as it could fall down at any time. Rusted steel shards lay beneath like autumn leaves.
Decay has pocketed the once chunky beams to create a fragile lace-like appearance. 
On previous visits we watched the weekly train cross the trestle with fingers crossed. Thankfully there have been no trains, or expected disasters, this time.
There's talk of rebuilding the aging structure.
But if they do, will its underpinnings look like Franz Kline paintings
or Indonesian shadow puppets?
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