After the storm

We recently had a whopper of a gale.  A long night,
then an even longer dark day of sideways rain and rattle-the-rafters wind.

The lull that followed meant only one thing - time for beachcombing - so four-paws and I

headed out to see what we could find.  I wasn't entirely sure there'd even be a shore left.

Predictions had been ominous but living as we do on a tiny rock out in the Pacific Ocean

 we know variables can be extreme island to island.  I needed to see firsthand how our
favorite spot had fared.

Thankfully, it was not so bad really.

Bull kelp was in abundance, having woven itself down the beach in dramatic ropes.  A few

boulders that support the edge of the two lane road had been displaced and
one or two megalithic tree stumps (from Canada perhaps?) had been dredged up & tossed ashore
like toothpicks.

The donations from the sea were plentiful.

I left this red one in place.  Figured a heart rock was better doing its good business under

a big sky, near a Big Puddle, than home with me in my pocket or on my windowsill.

This particular beach is in somewhat protected waters, with San Juan Island directly to 

the east & San Juan Channel in between, so it isn't like beaches that 

face the open ocean where lots of human trash prevails

(I'll pay you five dollars if you can even find a piece of sea glass on this stretch),

but it does hold a motherlode of natural detritus ...

driftwood

stones

shells

some feathers

and lots of seaweed ... especially during storm season.

And there was our "garbage" to collect and treasure.  Hadn't seen this around

for a whole year - a reddish seaweed that makes lovely rose-colored marks when wrapped in 

cloth (especially silk) if one is game to judiciously watch temperatures in the dyepot.

Worth the whole walk, was that.

:::

Have you ever heard of the British artist, Jo Atherton?

She weaves tapestries with the flotsam from her beaches & other coasts of the world

and tells some very interesting stories ...

Have a look.

Read More

Found while walking

It's possible to determine the seasons here

by what is washing up on the beach.  The tides

bring oyster shells in early summer,

multitudes of itty bitty crabs

and the particular seaweed that prints red on cloth.

Driftwood is plentiful

bleaching & cracking like rough skin in the sunshine.

It's heaven for the dogs.  Quinn is exuberant over her stick-chasing swims

while Isla is content to quietly sniff every log

up and down the shoreline for as long and as far as you'll let her.

Simple pleasures

enjoyed while I beach comb.

A lovely poem flew into my mailbox this morning from American Life in Poetry.

Although referencing the other coast, there's a truth here

to be found on all of them ... and within all of us.

I thought you might enjoy it.

Strewn 

It’d been a long winter, rags of snow hanging on; then, at the end

of April, an icy nor’easter, powerful as a hurricane. But now 

I’ve landed on the coast of Maine, visiting a friend who lives

two blocks from the ocean, and I can’t believe my luck, 

out this mild morning, race-walking along the strand. 

Every dog within fifty miles is off-leash, running 

for the sheer dopey joy of it. No one’s in the water,

but walkers and shellers leave their tracks on the hardpack. 

The flat sand shines as if varnished in a painting. Underfoot, 

strewn, are broken bits and pieces, deep indigo mussels, whorls

of whelk, chips of purple and white wampum, hinges of quahog, 

fragments of sand dollars. Nothing whole, everything 

broken, washed up here, stranded. The light pours down, a rinse 

of lemon on a cold plate. All of us, broken, some way 

or other. All of us dazzling in the brilliant slanting light.

~ by Barbara Crooker

 : : :

photo processing notes:

images shot with iPhone

double exposure created with Diana Photo app

edited on an iPad with Snapseed & Stackables apps

copyright added online with PicMonkey

: : :

... and if you've ever dreamed about walking the entire coastline of the UK

have a peek over on Ruth's Coastal Walk blog.

She's just been to Rhossili Beach

and you will not believe the unspoiled beauty ....

Read More

Moon watching

What a moon we've had developing the past few days ...

clear, star-filled nights make for contemplative viewing;

being out late with the dogs, a delight for stargazers like me.

A few days back, while it was waxing,

I posted this image on Instagram

"what night feels like towards the end of winter when spring is on the cusp

but wearing her icy mantle ..."

because although nights still call for two layers of warmth,

daytimes are for shirtsleeves and wide-brimmed hats already.

The full moon last night was glorious and I was extremely grateful for a kind winter

with very few dark days ... both in the weather, and in my mind.

I'd like to share today's "mindfulness poetry" originally posted on A Year of Being Here,

for the record - my record.  My winter of eleven winters here ... the first without seasonal angst.

Because it just might have something to do with acceptance.

: : :

Dear Ezra

I have to confess:

there are abstractions

I no longer go in fear of.

Take loneliness.

I've started calling it solitude.

It feels so new and improved now,

I can honestly say it soaks up time

better than a sponge soaks up water.

The other day I actually washed this poem with it.

Ez, let me tell you,

aging is a Laundromat,

and eventually you find yourself

watching what you spurned

and dreaded for years

spread out in widening gyres,

like sheets fluffed in the dryer.

Life is quite a bit cozier

when you let all the bugaboos-

you know- say, sadness and fear

crawl into bed with you.

Pace them with your breathing

and they fall asleep

fast as a couple of kids.

The other night we huddled together

staring at the moon

as it slid past my window:

big-bellied sail on a wet black sea.

~ by Eileen Moeller. Text as published in Poems of Awakening: An International Anthology of Spiritual Poetry.

Read More

Wild skies in the atmospheric river

We have the most wonderful weatherman here in western Washington.

He's an avid blogger and not only is he entertaining, 

he contributes boat loads of useful information; 

often, nothing short of a compendium of

fascinating weather facts and details one has never heard of before.

So today I'm borrowing from this fine fella - Cliff Mass - because his latest post,

"Atmospheric Rivers Strike the Pacific Northwest"

seemed to explain all the wild stuff I've been seeing recently

u  p       t  h  e  r  e 

Unlike some of the other local forecasters who tend to concentrate more on

what's happening around Seattle,

Mr. Mass seems to [almost] always get it right when it comes to

us island folk further north "up-Sound."

Darn helpful when seawater is your highway.

As for that, sure is nice to have the ferry Captain do the driving out there ...

I love when you can see it raining miles off in the distance ...

dependent upon which way the wind is blowing,

you can know if it's coming right for you

or not.

Always good to know when a big storm's heading your way.

Wind gusts last night topped 50 mph, but we were ready for it.

The only casualty ... my old  3Gs  iPhone finally bit the dust.  Or should I say

in keeping with this post,

sailed her last voyage?

Trouble's been a'brewing for some time, 

what with going all wonky at the most

inopportune moments,

then crashing every time I tried to take a picture.

I may have app-ed her to death [is that possible?].  My penchant for playing with effects

is no secret around here,

but whatever the cause, at last

I finally have the excuse I needed to upgrade.

oh boy.

:::


linking with Skywatch Friday [because it's Friday in Australia  ;>]
where you can see beautiful skies from all around the world ...

Read More