Speaking of environments I wonder where Randy Moss lives in Massachusetts

Surf

The cool blue water washed over Jim's body.
"Okay try it again." Called Harry over the crashing waves.
Jim reached out for the surf board again. It was attached to his leg, and it was a good thing too he thought or he would have lost it by now. He climbed on top of it on his stomache and slowly started to paddle out toward where he could see the waves breaking. Harder and harder he paddled as the current grew stronger. He sailed his arms in tight cutting motions into the water working his shoulders and back. The waves crashed over his head as he got closer to the breaks.
"Yah thats good dont give up!" called Harry.
Waves poored over Jim's head.
"Turn the board sideways and cut the wave with it!" Shouted Harry.
Jim tried. It became easier to make it over the waves. Finally after two ears full of water and a sore back Jim was out past the breaking waves waiting for one to ride. Harry sat next to him effortlessly gliding through the water on his board.
"Yeah man this is perfect, just be careful, hightide is hard."
"Yeah" Jim said his arms crossed on the front of his board with his head down.
"watch out!" Harry cried and as Jim lifted his head he could see a monsterous wave headed his way. He barley heard Harry saying.
"Paddle!" But as he saw Harry paddling in toward shore to catch the wave he did also.
The sea serged and swelled as he waited for the right time and soon he could feel the water rushing up behind him and the waves take control of his board. He pushed up on his arms and raised his feet coming to a stand, and tried to shift his weight sideways to parallel the wave, but as he did his board flew out from underhim crashing into the wave and taking him with it. Under the surface Jim was thrown left and right backward and forward he had no control. the board shot out from under the force of the wave crashing into Jims head. He washed up on the shore several minutes later out of breathe heaving and a trickle of blood coming from a cut above his right eye.
"yeah man hightide is gnarley" Harry said staring into the ocean as the sun danced off the swell.

Logger.

As the sun touched noon in the sky Charlie put down his axe by the large oak he was working on. His face, sweating, was cooled by the october breeze and he was glad he had put his hat. It was a brisk day but the sky was blue and Charlie's work was moving quickly. He had been working that section of the east bank forest, Montanna for the past three weeks. The weather had moved suddenly in the last month from the hot summer days and cool evenings with almost no warning into brisker days that brought with them the smell of winter. Charlie stood with his foot up against his current tree, both of his hands on his hips catching his breathe. He scratched his head and from his belt unhooked a canteen. He raised the water up to his lips and tilting his head back guzzled. After a few moments he lowered the canteen from his mouth wiping his red mustache dry. He looked out over the thickly canopead forest.
"Yup, alot of work here" he thought. "alot of money to be made."
He gazed up toward the sky his hands on his hips toward the sun through the green tree branches, and took a deep breathe. After a moment he stepped down from the tree, picked up his axe and swang it again into the oak's trunk. A flock of birds flew above his head singing pleasantly and Charlie could almost hear them through his axe and the trickle of sweat down his back.