Among all of the annual traditions that exist with my family, one has proven to be especially predictable.
Every January or February, my dad—who lives in San Diego—texts me a photo or video of one of his walks on a picturesque beach awash in golden sunlight, leaving footprints in the sand behind him as he strolls around on a random weekday. These messages are typically accompanied by a chipper description of the temperature and extended forecast.
