‘Crabtracks’ is the name of our house, so named because we found ghost crabs had made intricate patterns in the sand when we initially visited our lot. We decided these were hieroglyphics, inviting us to stay. Today I noticed a large, deep ghost crab hole beside one of my pansies, almost exposing the roots. I love the flower, but I also love the crabs who lived on this land long before I arrived. And so I will leave the crab alone, free to excavate my flowerbed and make his home. I wish him happiness and success, respecting his native habitat. I ask you, Lord, help me respect all life in its myriad forms. May I willfully destroy nothing you have created—well, maybe with the exception of noseeums, mosquitoes, and fire ants. And perhaps Father you could use even these pests to teach me much needed patience. Amen.
I watch the small seabirds run in the waves at the water’s edge, stopping to dig their beaks in the sand for small bits of food. How ideally suited they
I love to watch children on the beach. They approach the water with such energy and enthusiasm, rushing to splash into the foam, then stopping suddenly as they feel the