Month: November 2017

  • An Ever-Burning Light

    An Ever-Burning Light

    The days grow shorter and shorter.  At supper’s end we turn on the lights, circles of brightness in the house.  The decks are dark now, empty of flowerpots.  Only the cacti receive illumination, light pooling outside the window.  From the deck stars seem numberless.  I watch as did the ancients, those who walked in darkness […]

  • Dressing Right

    Dressing Right

    When I consider what to wear for my beach walk every morning, I take into account the previous evening’s weather forecast.  I check the thermometer on the porch, and I walk outside to see how windy it is.  All these factors determine if I’ll walk in my bathing suit, shorts, blue jeans, jacket or raincoat.  […]

  • Blending In

    Blending In

    This afternoon I was watering a pot of petunias on the back deck when out hopped a frog, looking a bit annoyed at the soaking he suffered.  It was no surprise I’d missed seeing him, so perfectly did he blend in with the background.  His green/brown/gray mottled skin exactly matched the stems and leaves of […]

  • Gratitude

    Gratitude

    We met friends for lunch today at a restaurant whose porch overlooks the bay.  Seabirds called and swooped, the clouds made their spectacular background mullet jumped in wide arcs, and the summer sun warmed our bare arms.  Just enough breeze played over us as we ate our seafood, making the setting comfortable, adding to our […]

  • Home Sweet Home

    Home Sweet Home

    I’ve been away from the island for a few days, visiting friends and family where I once lived.  Their warm welcome and friendship means so much to me, and yet I sorely missed the island.  I tried to think of precisely what I lacked, but couldn’t identify just one ingredient of the island’s attraction.  When […]

  • Gentle Rays

    Gentle Rays

    When the water is warm, my husband and I sometimes walk very slowly at the water’s edge and watch the rays or skate.  We’ve learned to recognize their triangular shape in the sand, sometimes just inches from shore but difficult at first to discern.  When we approach, the rays quickly shy away, moving their wings […]

  • Murky Water

    Murky Water

    The waves were rough last night, and this morning the water was muddy and murky.  Usually I can see small fish gather, recognize crabs and skates at the waves’ edge, but this morning the visibility was so limited I could distinguish nothing.  The turbulence of the waves had stirred up the ocean’s bottom, clouding its […]

  • Deflated Domes

    Deflated Domes

    When I walk early in the morning, I see domes in the sand, small puffed-up areas where some clam has apparently inflated the sand.  If I step on one of these domes, it immediately collapses, leaving only a crushed roof and bits of scattered sand.  I wonder about the creature that created the dome, and […]

  • Dancing Circles

    Dancing Circles

    I love to watch shorebirds dance in pools of water left high on the beach.  They shuffle their feet, riling the water, hoping to disturb some bit of food.  When the ponds dry, their circles are still visible, disturbed round areas where their feet have produced a tiny tempest.  If I’m honest, I’ll admit I’m […]

  • Changing Shape

    Changing Shape

    I pick up a handful of white sand on the beach, and let its grains drift through my fingers.  This coarse sand, with its impurities removed, is the source of glass.  On the island of Murano, in the Venetian lagoon, glass factories take sand like this, melt it in furnaces, and transform the sand into […]