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Radish of Bliss
May. 20th, 2018 09:52 pmI had a really nice time yesterday, noodling around by myself while the Sparrowhawk was engaged with his photography workshop. We got up at 5:30, just in time for him to dash off to the six am morning shoot. I stayed up and watched the royal wedding. He came by the motel just before nine so I could drop him off at the next session and take the car. I put gas in the car, got a bacon doughnut and coffee, and sat in the coffee shop waiting for the rain to stop. When it seemed to be slacking off, I drove out to the park. It was still raining, so I sheltered on the deck of the park beach house for awhile.
Finally, it quit drizzling. I decided to walk along the beach and see how it went. I had my backpack, with necessary items: a rain poncho, a wool sweater, my notebook and pencil, a bottle of water, and my Swiss army knife. Record high water levels have changed the beach so much in the past few years. I have to say it isn't really pretty any more. The water has eaten away all the forebeach and left a steep bluff maybe four or five feet high, with the remnants of marram grass up on top. The roots of the grass where it's been eroded away are left on the puny strip of sand below in big tangles like tumbleweed, around which you thread your way if you want to walk on the beach. I was barefoot, because you really have to walk in the water in some places. The water is still ice cold. At first I was all like, "Oh this is fine. I like cold water. It's good for my feet." But after awhile, my feet were getting numb.
Because everything looks different now, it was hard to see where the trail comes down to the beach farther up the shore. Scrambling up the bluff is not a fun option although it is quite doable. I finally decided I would go just down to a promising looking place I could see ahead, and if I hadn't found the trail by then, I would turn around. Lo and behold, that place was the trail itself. Somehow I knew where it was without knowing. Not too surprising, since I've been there hundreds of times. Then I took the trail back through the dunes to the lighthouse road. I sat up in the dunes for awhile to enjoy the silence. Such silence! Ornamented but not destroyed by the hushing of the waves, the cawing of crows in distant pines, the sigh of wind through the grass, trill of a red-winged blackbird in an unseen pond, and a sweet, delicate song I'd never heard before, from some bird close by but invisible.
The Sparrowhawk had a great time at the workshop and learned a lot. The instructor said of his photos that he has a great eye for detail, and that he likes to bring order out of chaos. For me, it was a much-needed break. We're home now. I still don't feel quite right. Maybe another week or two in the woods would do it!
Finally, it quit drizzling. I decided to walk along the beach and see how it went. I had my backpack, with necessary items: a rain poncho, a wool sweater, my notebook and pencil, a bottle of water, and my Swiss army knife. Record high water levels have changed the beach so much in the past few years. I have to say it isn't really pretty any more. The water has eaten away all the forebeach and left a steep bluff maybe four or five feet high, with the remnants of marram grass up on top. The roots of the grass where it's been eroded away are left on the puny strip of sand below in big tangles like tumbleweed, around which you thread your way if you want to walk on the beach. I was barefoot, because you really have to walk in the water in some places. The water is still ice cold. At first I was all like, "Oh this is fine. I like cold water. It's good for my feet." But after awhile, my feet were getting numb.
Because everything looks different now, it was hard to see where the trail comes down to the beach farther up the shore. Scrambling up the bluff is not a fun option although it is quite doable. I finally decided I would go just down to a promising looking place I could see ahead, and if I hadn't found the trail by then, I would turn around. Lo and behold, that place was the trail itself. Somehow I knew where it was without knowing. Not too surprising, since I've been there hundreds of times. Then I took the trail back through the dunes to the lighthouse road. I sat up in the dunes for awhile to enjoy the silence. Such silence! Ornamented but not destroyed by the hushing of the waves, the cawing of crows in distant pines, the sigh of wind through the grass, trill of a red-winged blackbird in an unseen pond, and a sweet, delicate song I'd never heard before, from some bird close by but invisible.
The Sparrowhawk had a great time at the workshop and learned a lot. The instructor said of his photos that he has a great eye for detail, and that he likes to bring order out of chaos. For me, it was a much-needed break. We're home now. I still don't feel quite right. Maybe another week or two in the woods would do it!
