She listened to the music of the ripples on the beach, and the plantive mewing of the seagulls, and thought what quiet treasures of the senses age brought in return for the passion it removed. Mauve smoke drifted toward her on the northwest breeze, perfuming the salt air with the smell of burning leaves. She had never realized what a lovely smell that was before. Perhaps there was nothing in the world so rewarding as tranquil awareness.
