How to: have hope

Least Tern scrape

American Oystercatcher caginess

Waiting to be found

Just as the sun steps over the horizon, head east. Drive with the sun in your eyes until you hit water. Do not think about yesterday's losses. Do not linger too long over what might've been. Do not wonder what you should have done differently.

Climb over the seawall and greet the Oystercatchers on their way to the river. Tip-toe through the wrack and nod towards the grumpy fishermen. Get down on your hands and knees to see what gifts the tide has left you. Do not mind the tears; the sand and the wind in your eyes are a good excuse.

See the Least Terns overhead: the brazen, bustling air-defense system of this beach. Let your eyes map their petite features: the quick wings, the black cap, the downward-pointing yellow bill. Count them by the dozens. Admire the simplicity of their nest: in a pebbly depression of dry sand, eggs 1 to 4, from pale greenish to dull drab, spotted with clear brown and some lavender.

Things I can't resist

Another little black party dress

One last dip in the ocean before heading back to the city

One more piece of pie!

Bunny butts,

puppy kisses

and trying to catch frogs

 

Trying to get the perfect tree photo

 

Or the pefect sanderling photo

Sticking my nose deep into blooming tea olive bushes

Whistling back at Blue Jays 

Poetry at bedtime
 

Lens flare

Touching velvet 

Naps

Stopping to watch Red Tails turn lazy circles in the sky above me

Waking up napping kitties 

Going barefoot 

Green olives

Singing along with Paolo Nutini

Befriending horses on country roads 

Another cup of coffee 

Making funny faces at shy babies

Guacamole

How to vacation at the beach

Befriend the ghost crabs...

An easy way to do this is to have a picnic lunch on the sand. Bring heirloom tomatoes, basil and fresh mozarella from home. Pack a beer or two in the cooler. Sit in the shade while the locals gather shrimp in their seine nets. Try not to act too alarmed at the small sharks they bring ashore. Once you've forgotten about them, the ghost crabs will come out of their burrows.

 

Let the surf rock you to sleep at low tide... 

The beach has stretched out as far as it can go (and on Jekyll Island, that's pretty far!) I think low tide is the best tide... it's open, gentle and inviting. Sea life enlivens the shallow water and it's a fun time to explore what's been left behind with the outgoing tide. There's always some treasure... we caught glimpses of small sharky fins and a ray or two. Sadie seemed to love the gentle rocking of the sea. It's also a good time to start a drip castle... dig a little hole and pile up the sand... let it dribble between your fingers and before you know it, there's a world of towers, silly and crooked.

Daydream beneath a canopy of live oaks draped with spanish moss... 

Shade is important on a beach vacation; too much sun on all of those bug bites will be very painful when you're trying to sleep later tonight... I'm not sure how I lived without the occasional sight of live oaks before moving to GA... they are the most wonderful of trees, I think! 

Breathe deeply of sky and salt marsh... 

The salt marsh is another wonderful place for exploring, especially if there's a paved path to do it by bike! Fiddler crabs abound, as do the birds who hunt them.

Watch the sun go down behind the marina... 

There can never be too many sunsets over the water on a beach vacation, right? It's all sort of strange and magical. We'd gone from place to place each day trying to avoid the bugs, but they found us, especially, here. The beautiful view was almost worth the bites, though.

(The shrimp and grits were especially worth the bites!)

: )

Count the pink birds when they show up... 

Let's see... 8 roseate spoonbills, 6 wood storks, 3 tri-coloreds... who else?

Find a little town that harbors shrimp boats... 

Shrimp boats always dot the horizon here; it was fun finding them, finally, at rest.

Be on the lookout for sea turtle hatchlings!

We walked on the beach just about every night (another ploy to escape the bugs at the campground!) and all of those nights were leading up to/during/just after the fool moon. It's a wonderful walk when the tide is out... the sand glows and the water twinkles under the huge moon. So beautiful! Who could be inside at a time like that? Who could sleep? We had a magical experience with some loggerhead sea turtle hatchlings on our first night on Jekyll... more to come!

Getaway plans

seashells cover the beaches, tinkling like wind chimes as they tumble over one another in the waves

Our next throw-everything-in-the-car-plus-the-dog-roadtrip-to-escape-the-city is on for next week. We'll be spending a couple days on Sanibel Island and then a couple days around St. Pete. A visit to Ding Darling NWR as well as Fort DeSoto is on the agenda. We're hoping also to fit in a dinner date with a long quiet blog friend while in her neighborhood.

J is plotting our course over his beloved maps. Me, I'm looking forward to...

blue sky dawns * shelling on one of the best beaches in the world * pelicans! * salt spray * white sand underfoot * key lime pie * driving with the windows down * roseate spoonbills * at least one drink with an umbrella * wearing flip-flops for a couple days * watching J make drip castles in the sand * laughing gulls! * my polka-dot bikini * palm trees * sunshine * sandy feet * sunsets * floating * hermit crabs * sandbars * humid salty air * staring at the horizon

This December

I'm grateful for red sleds

Bluebirds

Evergreens

Gold stars

Silver linings

(and bottlebrush tress, of course!)

25

I pick the prettiest part of the sky and I melt into the wing and then into the air, till I'm just soul on a sunbeam. ~Richard Bach

Yes, I'm still checking off items from last year's list...

: )

Kite flying has always looked like such fun to me and a little boy at the beach on Labor Day weekend with a stunt kite inspired me to get my own. A stunt kite has two lines for control and is not anything one can put up into the sky and tie off to a beach chair to be forgotten while you sunbathe.

You have to manage this thing and boy, is it fun! A gentle (or not so much) tug on either the right-handed or left-handed line will set the kite diving in whichever direction... the wind plays its hand and the kite is making loop the loops in a dangerous spiral towards someone's umbrella...

Crash!!

There was much giggling and some cheering, even... a brisk wind and the sun low on the beach at Cape May... the lighthouse behind us... the curiosity of an Amish family out for a seaside afternoon...

I hadn't felt so lighthearted in a long while.

And next I want to learn how to do tricks!

: )

25 in last year's 39 by 40.

How to: be happy no matter what

Say yes to a ridiculous idea.

Inhale deeply the scent of a beloved pet.

Walk barefoot on the beach.

Remember all the times you never thought you’d make it this far.

Ask a small child to help you paint your toenails.

Dance to that one song...

Take a nap.

Do something creative.

Have something wonderful read aloud to you.

Wear a shortish dress to show off your long legs. Accept all compliments graciously and with a wide smile.

Treat yourself. Maybe to ice-cream. Or fresh flowers.

Give away love everywhere and any way you can.

Go to the farmer's market and buy a pint of strawberries, then eat them quietly in your living room when you are all by yourself.

Make funny faces at very small children when their parents aren't looking.

Work out. Not to be skinny, but because becoming strong will make you feel powerful and confident in so many other ways.

Show up even if you don’t know what to say.

Water the garden.

Take time off. Travel. Meet strangers where and how they live; get a larger perspective of the world and its people and your place in it.

Read an old love letter as a reminder that you have been adored.

Sit with the ocean or under a huge old oak.

Want what you want just because you want it.

Compliment a total stranger.

Buy one bar of lovely dark chocolate and eat one tiny square a day like it is the secret to life and liberty.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Care to add to the list? What makes you happy no matter what? Let’s make a list we just can’t help but love!

What I'm craving

change * sun-streaked hair * a warm Jersey tomato * beach, beach, beach * a Lensbaby * pure silliness * a sundress occasion * a picnic in the shade * easy laughter * floating docks * a good nap * daring in the face of reality * courage for a new plan * strength to say what i want, need and must have *grace enough to accept the fallout * a bubble bath * beach plum jelly * Luka kisses * a thunderstorm * black raspberry ice cream * blackberry pearl (please someone talk me out of buying a purplish car!!) * room in your sunshine * a book to get lost in * camel pose * honesty * ice-cold strawberries

4 (redo)

It's a poor sort of memory that only works backwards.

~Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

So earlier this evening I sat on my little patio wiggling my freshly-painted toes in a roasting pan filled with sand and seashells and water from the Pacific Ocean.

I smiled and giggled and hoped my neighbors couldn't see what I was doing.

The sand and seawater and roasting pan were presented to me a while back in a cardboard box with instructions on how to affect the above photo.

The seashells were mine, collected on a trip last year along my familiar eastern coast, but added for the sake of realism.

;-)

Can anyone, by the way, explain to me why NJ beaches are devoid of proper seashells?

Anyway so... it's not exactly what I had in mind for #4, but it'll do for now and I learned a couple things:

sand from that other coast is very pebbly and must feel nice underfoot

the sea is just as salty-tasting on the other side of the country

of course I tasted it!

(that wasn't in the instructions, tho)

it's good to have friends who travel to far-flung places and are as nutty as you

(or maybe more so)

if you're going to do anything as silly as this, it's best to save it for that moment when the mood strikes you at the end of a very long Terrible Tuesday when you're sick of being the mean-social-worker-lady.

(silliness is an excellent challenge to meanness)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Another attempt at 4 in last year's 39 by 40. I haven't quite perfected the new list just yet.

Things I don't ever want to do

eat snails
a big year
refuse help
karaoke
stop trying
star in a reality tv show
forget to laugh
go to Disney World
believe the worst about people
work weekends again
be perfect
live too far from the ocean
miss the magic in an ordinary moment

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Thanks to MevetS for use of this photo!

When I didn't know what hit me

I'm working on a different kind of list here in the last couple days before that birthday-which-must-not-be-named.

;-)

It's wanting to be a really long list and I'm having fun with making it. It's a list that commemorates the unexpected things that can happen over the course of a year, little moments that I never saw coming, things I had no idea I'd do in a run of 365 days...

I can't lie; it hasn't been the easiest year. There's been parts, in fact, that were so painful I can barely stand to speak of them.

But this is how you get over, I think: you make a list of the good.

So...

This year I:

watched an adult male harrier float over the red of an October cranberry bog

had dumplings in chinatown and alligator sausage in a cream sauce that's to die for

went to a major league baseball game. my first ever. on opening day.

(and the home team won!)

shared black raspberry ice-cream on the first day of summer

realized that I need someone who'll read poetry with me, or write it for me

;-)

spent an afternoon photographing a coworker's adorable babies

wished on a falling star in the mountains at Christmas

learned to like hugs from my big brothers

(well, almost.)

stood high above the New River bridge and then way down below it, again

hosted THE bird-blog carnival and survived

unknowingly started an airport postcard collection

had my hair blown wild as seaweed in a boat on Lake Superior

(and didn't puke!)

got hooked on lavender lemonade and yoga on the boardwalk

watched lots of spectacular sunsets

found the singular most beautiful orchid. period.

got my first ever parking ticket and had my first ever car accident (today!)

(the good in that isn't immediately obvious, but I'm hopeful)

learned to make an omelette and pump gas

finally got over some of my little-girl fears of swimming in the ocean

played poker for laundry money

learned what real heat and humidity feel like

found my 5th grade teacher on Facebook and she remembered me!

saw flamingos!

spent the better part of an afternoon lost on Rte. 3 and found myself at José Tejas

watched ravens weave invisible patterns with the wind

- - - - - - - - - - -

Hem your blessings with thankfulness so they don't unravel. ~Author Unknown

I've been blessed this year, for sure.

Today

Birds are still singing;

the trees are long past their first delicate greening.

Peepers at the roadside are suddenly quiet.

The northward surge of Spring is past us now.

Summer flowers are blooming;

Canada Mayflowers put on quite a show this year

and I found my first blooming Starflower

(but the photo was awful!)

Birds are looking for homes

in boxes and under bridges,

gathering twigs and feathers.

Or building nests

from vines and rootlets

and whatever magic things they can weave together.

They're making babies.

;-)

Lots and lots of babies!

- - - - - - - - - - - -

I'm planting flowers of my own

and reading books

(and remembering how much I love the poetry of the Spanish language.)

I'm checking-off lists

and working on this year's.

It's a big one!

I'm planning a very private party to celebrate

and wanting to wander some, to contemplate

and squander time, letting it pass ungathered and unregretted.

There's no pictures yet to share.

- - - - - - - - - - -

What're you up to?

Wandering...

to a moonlit September beach

crab traps, fishing poles and the little compartments of a tackle box

to wildflower-strewn hillsides in W. Virginia

toasting marshmallows on a stick and waiting for the whippoorwills to call

to the smooth path of a wake behind the boat

night walks with Luka, the warm lights of other people's lives as we pass outside

to the first breath of salty air coming home over the bridge

the enchanted fairy-tale scent of beach plum in the dunes

to the places and people that don't change

the rumbling happy tone of your voice

to lingering can't-say-goodbye sunsets

the echoes of footsteps, no words between us

to winnowing snipe, pasture horses and more ticks than I've had on me in my life in N. Dakota

the stars and darkness gathered all around us, mixed with the sound of the ocean

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Where does your mind wander to?

I've been

looking at cherry blossoms as a bumblebee might

divining the cryptic patterns of moths

wandering along creeks

practising my snake-charming skills*

resisting the urge to walk barefoot among the violets and bluets

letting the sun kiss my shoulders

imagining a visit to the Grand Canyon and deciding other places call to me more

watching bats weave their twilight magic across Venus and a sinking Orion

debating my future

feeling like the fifth wheel on a car gone crazily off course

cheering for a rookie

muddying my bare feet to save my shoes

discovering a pair of eagles soaring among dogwood flowers

hyperventilating on a train trestle

the scope's okay despite its crazy cartwheel into the river below!

eating s'mores

watching Spring spread across the treetops

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Anything fun for you lately?

*If someone can help on the snake, I'd appreciate it... it tried very hard to convince silly me that it was a fierce rattlesnake, using its tail to rattle the dried leaves (and the worried man standing behind me.)

;-)

12

Found it.

:-)

12 in my 39 by 40.

March means...

Everything has its season, but no season is without color and life, wonder and surprise. He who would know the world of which he is a part must know the way the January wind shapes a snowdrift as well as the ecstasy with which an oriole greets the June dawn.
--Hal Borland

A chance at #23.
Skunk cabbage and, with luck, Hepatica.
That first Phoebe.
Pussy willows.
Grackles and Red-wing blackbirds.
The sun streaming through the bedroom window again when I wake up.
Piping plovers!
Returning Osprey!
Woodcock!!
Peepers.
Girl Scout cookies.

What are you looking forward to as Winter ends?

Favorites at the beach

The line of shoes left at the dune fence
Sun streaks in your hair
Ghost crabs
Sun-kissed shoulders
Halter tops
Floating docks
When the wind shifts direction
Lavender-infused lemonade
Digging your toes into the sand
The cries of gulls
Orienting your towel to the sun
Sanderlings!
Stopping for black raspberry ice cream on the drive home
Wrap-around porches
Polka-dot bikinis
Your chair at the low tide mark with waves lapping at your ankles
A baby in a white floppy hat meeting the ocean for the first time
The smell of Coppertone
Skeeball
A little pool of water in your belly button
Wading through a sun-warmed tidal pool
The shapes of clouds
Painted toenails
Sandcastles

4

It's not the Pacific, but I'm hedging my bets with the Gulf of Mexico... and that water was cold!

The light and keeper's quarters at St. Marks are framed, picture-perfect, by a live oak. The lighthouse lies at the mouth of the St. Marks River on Apalachee Bay; a beautiful spot.

4 in my 39 by 40.

34

A ritual walk on the sand, the brittle night and the wide blue sky of Winter boundless above us. With frozen lips I named the couple stars I've managed to learn and wondered why I didn't choose to learn the warmer summer sky.

;-)

I'm tempted to start my naming with the Big Dipper and its arrow to Polaris; the Big Dipper being the only constellation I'd learned as a child and which I've since learned (thanks to Steve) is, instead, an asterism.

I turn my back to the chill wind and its view of Ursa Major and Ursa Minor to start instead with conspicuous Orion, whose belt (another asterism and don't I sound smart?) points the way to Sirius and Canis Major and Canis Minor... in that general area, too, someone's imagined a rabbit, but I don't see it.

A couple spins (I did a lot of spinning to reorient myself in the sky and avoid the wind) and high in the sky I find the almost familiar "W" of Cassiopeia, whose name I can't pronounce correctly, especially not with such numb lips. From the corner of my eye, a new one, the Pleiades, overhead.

That's five at least, isn't it? Have I learned my quota, can I get back in my car and out of this relentless cold, please?

The dark and the hush deepen, all a part of the beauty that touches the quick of understanding. We came for the night, as well as the stars, and it was there all around us. When at last my stiff fingers had thawed and I was on my way home again, the magic was still there. It's more than the stars; it's the cold and the wind, and the old, old stories across the sky.

34 in my 39 by 40.