Walking the Labyrinth

I'm shocked that it's been so long since I've posted here.  We have been making our acquaintance with the local hospital and cardiologists as the hubs decided to have another "event" as soon as we arrived.  Nothing major, but enough to cause concerns.  Sigh.  Two rounds of company later - already planned and sorely needed - the hubs on new meds - I finally got a haircut - we are back into Relax Mode.

This place is paradise.  There is a magical, mystical quality to the air here.  It's fresh, clean and fills my lungs like nothing else.  Remember as a child that feeling you got in your lungs after swimming all day?  Or being outside all day?  How fresh the inside of your lungs feel?  And how relaxed your body is?  It's that.

I've begun to do something I call "walking the labyrinth."  Solitary walks along the beaches, or boardwalks, or pathways.  Mainly the beaches.  Most times the camera isn't invited because of the constant wind and sand.  The companion in my hand is a net/bag within which I place treasures.  Pieces of metal and pottery from shipwrecks that line the coast, usually just offshore.  Shipwrecks from Civil War and the WW's.  Special shells.  And trash, of course.  I'm only now beginning to learn the local history.

At the river/lake my Summer Toe color was a cool blue.  Here, I've found a bright shade of turquoise called "Ocean," which fits my new persona.  Turquoise, fuchsia and bright white are my new colors.  The beach is sinking into my psyche.

This is a terrible photograph of a moss or seaweed covered rock.  These dot the shoreline in a particular place.  I've discovered (thanks to Sky) a place to go photograph that looks like Ireland.  Not that I've been to Ireland, but what my mind envisions Ireland to look like.  One day, one day.

Is this not the coolest thing?  Old bricks?  This one was found along a rock barrier sea wall.  I'm not sure what they are, but I've found some in the yard as well and will investigate with the locals at some point.

Intriguing.

Sometimes one has to get off the computer, walk the earth and soak up new things.  This is my time.  When the temperature outside reaches 500 degrees Fahrenheit, I'll be back inside doing computery things.  In the meantime, you'll find me out walking the labyrinth. 

Sunrise

I sat on the beach, one idyllic spring dawn
I was witness to a miracle
A miracle that happens every day
As I gazed out into the Atlantic, to the far horizon
I saw it happening....

And out of nothing, the horizon transmutated
From the deep indigo-black, to an amazing crimson
With splashs of orange, yellow and teal
And then....the most amazing thing of all
This giant red ball of celestial luminosity
Rising out of the ashes of yesterday
A perfectly symmetrical ball of pulsating energy

Transitioning....vermillion to pale crimson to bright saffron yellow
The horizon was on fire with colour
The deeper shades gave way
The sky now totally involved, becomes cerulean blue
The fire subsides, clouds open like the gates of Heaven
Once again, Apollo races across the sky on his Pegasus

Welcoming morning to us mortals
And he brings the giver of life to his place in the sky
That spectacular, luminous sphere of light and boundless energy
Yes, mighty Sol, our benevolent sun, takes his throne
And this miracle, this everyday miracle....Sunrise
Mine eyes have seen the glory!

Poem by Tomahawk

I've been busy with projects and health issues - nothing particularly blog-worthy but each necessary and very time consuming.  And soul consuming.  I hope to get back on track with my life next week.  Please say some prayers and keep your fingers crossed - whatever works for you.  In the meantime please enjoy these sunrise shots and this lovely poem by Tomahawk that fits exactly the way I felt while witnessing this miracle.

Day on the Beach

Laughing Gull

The past couple of days have been very, very windy.  Still, we braved the breezes to sit on the beach and relax after days of working on the house.  Laughing Gulls think people are meal tickets.  They were sadly mistaken in our case, but at least I got some good shots as they crept closer and closer before flying off in search of better opportunities.

Cormorant

Enjoying the beach yesterday was a challenge.  White caps as far as the eye can see, wind blowing over chairs and tumbling cups and shells and sand.  Still, we insisted because ... well, we could.  This cormorant was a delightful surprise.  Facing the wind he stretched out his wings to dry them in the breeze.  I got fairly close to him but not close enough to scare him off.  It's his beach, too.

The longer we sat the lower the sun sank behind us, casting an unusual glow onto the waves.  The gusts sent choppy ocean waves roaring toward the beach in rapid succession, each on the heels of the other.

We were transfixed and could have sat there for hours if not for the temperature dropping. There was a wind chill cutting through our sweatshirts, for after all, it IS only April.  With lowering temps, rising winds and an ocean spray beginning to hit us it was time to put the camera back into the safety of its case.

But first....just one more shot....

On Vacation

Good friend Larry surf fishing at Holden Beach, North Carolina
1985, taken with my Yashica FX-2 35mm

We'll be at North Topsail Beach, North Carolina until June 21st.
Enjoy this fun little beach poem I found on the Internet.

Beach Glass
Amy Clampitt

While you walk the water's edge,
turning over concepts
I can't envision, the honking buoy
serves notice that at any time
the wind may change,
the reef-bell clatters
its treble monotone, deaf as Cassandra
to any note but warning. The ocean,
cumbered by no business more urgent
than keeping open old accounts
that never balanced,
goes on shuffling its millenniums
of quartz, granite, and basalt.
It behaves
toward the permutations of novelty—
driftwood and shipwreck, last night's
beer cans, spilt oil, the coughed-up
residue of plastic—with random
impartiality, playing catch or tag
ot touch-last like a terrier,
turning the same thing over and over,
over and over. For the ocean, nothing
is beneath consideration.
The houses
of so many mussels and periwinkles
have been abandoned here, it's hopeless
to know which to salvage. Instead
I keep a lookout for beach glass—
amber of Budweiser, chrysoprase
of Almadén and Gallo, lapis
by way of (no getting around it,
I'm afraid) Phillips'
Milk of Magnesia, with now and then a rare
translucent turquoise or blurred amethyst
of no known origin.
The process
goes on forever: they came from sand,
they go back to gravel,
along with treasuries
of Murano, the buttressed
astonishments of Chartres,
which even now are readying
for being turned over and over as gravely
and gradually as an intellect
engaged in the hazardous
redefinition of structures
no one has yet looked at.

I love walking on the beach in the early, early morning and late, late afternoon looking for beach glass, seashells, driftwood and spying pieces of things I can't identify. I love standing at the edge of the ocean, waves foaming around my toes reclaiming the sand beneath. I love closing my eyes and hearing the sound of gulls and grackles interspersed with the booming waves and laughter of children. I love watching the shrimp boats gently rocking, rows of nets on either side gathering treasures. I love the endless horizon and the storms that blow strong from the ocean. I love looking at the stars at night as effervescent ocean waves lick the sand.

I hate men and women who plunder and ruin our seashores and wetlands and precious wildlife out of ignorance and greed. Where do they vacation, do you suppose? Do they park their yachts beside the oil derricks in the ocean and dive into the waters from those great iron structures? Mind, I'm all about commerce and making a living, but not at the expense of our planet. Think, people, think. This is our Only and Forever Earth. Take care of her. This is my prayer for the Gulf of Mexico, its boundaries and shorelines and its residents, both wild and domestic.

Rant over. I'm off to pack for the trip. Take care of yourselves.

New Look for Spring

The blue was depressing me. Maybe it was just me, but every time I came here it felt all dark and gloomy, like the inside of a cave or something. And the tree was scary looking. Ick. It just felt all wrong and "not me."

So, I perused other blogs for inspiration, heading to Rachel's at Blue Algae Creative. She just rocks. Her photos, her prose, the entire feeling of her blog is a soothing balm for my soul. Always has been. The sheer beauty of it makes me want to linger. The colors are soft and inviting and subtle, like sea glass. Sea glass. That's exactly what her blog reminds me of. When I visit there I feel as though I'm walking on a beach at sunset, soft twilight colors of sky and sea and sand. Shells and rocks and sea oats and the sound of gulls. Driftwood and seaweed. I can smell the ocean, the salty air, the briny scent, and hear the waves crash, feel the sea foam cross over my toes as they sink into the wet sand.

I digress. Sorry. As usual, Rachel has tweaked her blog with a new banner and I just love it SO very much that I borrowed her concept. Mine is not as good as hers as she is a true artist. Everything in her blog flows together like a river, but I like the size for a change of pace. I also love that Bird Girl exhibits her camera, so I added my own like she did. When one isn't capable of being creative, one mimics their mentors. It's a compliment.

So, thank you Rachel for your inspiration. Thanks for sharing your talents with us. Enjoy the Pacific Northwest for me, okay? Thank you Bird Girl for giving me the idea for the camera.