Awakening

Northern Dewberry

Beach bums since Monday, our days have been filled with the busyness of settling in.  Not much time for relaxing or exploring, but those days are approaching.  During downtime I explore the yard.  These little white flowers are everywhere.  Wild and low, rambling along fence lines, peaking their heads up through low decking, they are bright white in the sunshine.  Sunshine.  I'd forgotten how bright the beach is, and how much I love the color of the light.  It's dazzling, and the roads have diamonds glittering within.  But I digress.  

This beauty buzzed by for a visit as I explored.  Gorgeous creature, but not sure exactly what it is.  A wasp seemingly, but the like of which I've not noticed before.  Fortunately, it was more interested in the flowers than in me.  

There are live oaks everywhere, which are one of my top ten favorite trees.  Scattered beneath them are all manner of rambling bushes and plants.  I brought my pruning tools but I've learned not to whack indiscriminately.  Each plant begs identification.  I've no clue what this is, above, but love the little blue berries.  

A yaupon holly is growing tall amid the branches of a live oak.  Until I clear out the underbrush I'm not sure what to do, if anything.  Why do anything at all, Bob asks?  A good question.

A garland of cat-brier vines drape over and within the live oaks' canopies.  They produce these gorgeous, fat, juicy blue-black berries that feed over 13 different species of birds.  Why not leave them there, Bob asks?  Another good question.  

The minutiae of curlicues and spines and bokeh provided by the various plants, blue of the sky beyond.  I just love this image.  

There is a huge palm tree planted out front that does indeed need some trimming before it takes out an eye.  That'll also wait...

Because today, the northern dewberries bloom, casting their shadows as they face the sunshine.  The sky is blue and filled with lines of brown pelicans gliding above the waves, cormorants scurrying northward, and all manner of gulls.  The grackles are making their beachy sounds.  This morning I rescued a box turtle who thought the roadway was a nice place to sleep.  Baylee and I have found a lovely lane lined with sodium lights and live oaks upon which to take our morning walks.  She loves the beach, and bounds and romps with the waves.  This morning I returned to the beach after our walk to watch the sunrise.  There was a storm way out over the ocean which made the sun late in its arrival, but once it came the water, sand and sky was filled with golds, purples, teal and peach.  Again, a glimmer of something began deep, deep within.  My camera rested within its case this morning.  The sunrise was just for me, and me alone.  For I was very alone on the beach.  No other person could be seen.  The Atlantic washing over my bare toes, treasured shells nestled in my drained coffee cup, I stood tall looking out over the ocean and communed with Spirit.  Let the healing begin.