Only a week ago, Kipper and I were walking this beach almost every day, stopping to gather the light-filled jewels of agates, but all that has suddenly changed. What was a relatively peaceful bowl of ocean is off-kilter and sloshing over seastacks more regularly now as we move into the wet season, and those warm, dry pebbles we agate-hunters lolled against? They're now wet and chilled, scattered and rearranged, scooped out to sea by the persistent fingers of higher tides.

Yes. Change is the only constant.