Cold as brass monkeys

Moments later, in my improvised cut-downs, Kate and I were jumping icy, gray waves that formed perfect semicircles on the smooth, flat sand. Plucking up courage, we raced into the water. I gasped, looked down, and saw my legs turn deathly white as blood fled my frozen pins. Kate just laughed. Adjusting to the cold, we waded in a bit farther. Tiny, gray-green waves collided in silvery arcs, dappling our mouths with the taste of salt, seaweed, and sun. After some extensive water play, we clomped back to the shore and tried to persuade Frances to join us for a paddle. Cleverly, she saw through our bold fibs regarding the tropical nature of the ocean blue and declined.