Month: September 2017

  • Scattered Pearls

    Scattered Pearls

    This morning’s beach walk revealed a surprise; the water’s rim was scattered with pearls!  They came in various sizes from tiny seed pearls to larger beads, each perfectly shaped and opalescent in the morning light.  Perhaps they were eggs from some sea creature, or perhaps they were seedpods; no one at the ranger station could […]

  • Breathe Deeply

    Breathe Deeply

    When I travel to another country, I take with me a small bottle of perfume I’ve never worn before.  I use it during the trip, and when I return home, that scent helps me recall where I’ve been and what I’ve experienced.  When I’ve left the island for any length of time, the scent of […]

  • Sand on the Path

    Sand on the Path

    When I walk to the beach in the nearby state park, I use a wooden crossover to gain access.  Open at the sides, this wooden structure must regularly be brushed free of sand or it becomes so clogged that people no longer use it, climbing over the dune instead.  Because the dune is fragile, park […]

  • Seen From Above

    Seen From Above

    I have flown over the sea and discovered to what extent the perspective of height alters my awareness of the ocean below.  Lines that are invisible on the shore can easily be determined from above; elaborate patterns and shapes are clearly defined.  I can’t distinguish them as I walk on the shore, but from above […]

  • Never Empty-Handed

    Never Empty-Handed

    I watch visitors to the island gather shells in plastic bags, celebrating each new discovery, comparing and praising one another’s latest find.  The sea bring us so many gifts—delicious foods, refreshing recreating, and certainly shells of great beauty.  And yet for me, the greatest gift is simply the presence of the sea, its calm on […]

  • One Drop of Salt Spray

    One Drop of Salt Spray

    When I walked this morning, a drop of sea spray landed on my glasses. I removed them so I could wipe away the salt before it dried, and began to think about each drop of water that comprises the ocean.  The drop itself is powerless, and yet in combination with millions and millions of other […]

  • Walking in the Rain

    Walking in the Rain

    I gazed out this morning and saw an island pelted with rain, hard rain that seemed insistent on remaining for the entire day.  Dejected, I postponed my daily walk.  Then suddenly, I thought, why can’t I walk in the rain?  Quickly I put on my bathing suit and headed for the beach.  My hair was […]

  • God’s Grace

    God’s Grace

    The island is awash in wild flowers now, splashes of color line the road, displaying their palette even in the piney woods on the bay.  No one plants these seeds, no one tends them; they must endure drought and cold, surviving intense heat and salt spray, super-heated summer winds.  They are a gift, these lovely […]

  • Sand on My Toes

    Sand on My Toes

    How wonderful the sand feels on my toes!  I can choose the texture—slippery, squeaky sand near the boardwalk, firm sand farther from the water’s edge, rippled and damp sand where pools have subsided, crunchy sand where shells lie just underfoot, and soft, sinking sand at the water’s edge.  My toes grip the grains and curl […]

  • Roots Exposed

    Roots Exposed

    On the bay side of the island, trees stand on the beach near the water.  Their roots are exposed, spreading out below them as the dead branches fan out above them.  How secure they must have once seemed, their roots firmly planted in the earth, their trunks strong and mighty.  Now they stand lifeless, waiting […]