Tubing on the Ortega River 8/20/07

Look at how much fun we had Monday night. We were celebrating Catherine's first day of First Grade.

I could hardly move my arms the next few days. I'm way too old for that kind of fun anymore unless I'm just a spectator!

Summer Beach Bash 2007

We recently returned from a week at our beach house. (well, it feels like ours, we rent it so regularly) and we were blessed with a visit from my sister Jody and her family. We had a grand time even with temperatures feeling like 100 or 105 every day. The ocean water felt like bath water and all of us found lots of shark teeth and beautiful sea glass. We collected these treasures every day and compared them in the evening to see who had been luckiest. We laid by night- time ocean-side bonfires; we kayaked in the deep-water ocean, alongside porpoise and in the local Guana river at sunset; we surf-fished and body-surfed the waves and in between basked in the sun with Margaritas and cold beer. Every one of us finished the week golden brown and content. Here are a few of my favorite pictures. Thanks Jody, Steve, Heather and Tony for making it very memorable.

Ordinary Bliss

Most of what happens in the course of a day simply does not matter. We miss a deadline. Someone misunderstands what we say. We get cut off in traffic by a Hummer when we're in a hurry. We lose a telephone number. We make a gauche remark because we're nervous. We're late, we're late, for a very important date. We aren't invited to a party but our friend is. There's no hot water. The dog digs another hole in the yard. Someone pretends not to see us on the street. We have a flat tire. A printer runs out of ink in the middle of a job. One of our useless possessions breaks. The last carton of yogurt is past its expiration date. Why do we give these things precedence over the color of the sky, the kindness of strangers, the interior world of a peony, the size of our soul? I drive back and forth to work over a soaring bridge with panoramic views of the river with sailboats drifting, their white sails blowing like sheets on the clothesline, shore birds hanging in the air, caught motionless in the tail of a breeze---and I forget to see. The oven self-cleans itself and I forget to be grateful. The morning glory comes back every summer, a surprise zinnia is back for an annual visit, all pink and red. My daughter is all smiles with a ready-hug when I pick her up from her first day in first grade. Fortunately, there is no deadline to miss on ordinary bliss. It never goes flat, there's no expiration date and the party it throws is always in progress. Best of all, there's no invitation required.

Such A Place

I strolled towards the shore and a gaggle of gulls formed in front of me, encircling a group of tiny shorebirds---willets, terns and an occasional sandpiper - as if to protect them. Farther along, an aging fisherman equipped with a bucket of bait fish and fathoms of faith sat on his stool, gazing out to sea. He seemed content, as fishermen always are, to wait, and wait for the big bite. On the horizon, the narrow blue strip of sky widened. After a while, the wind blew puffy, iron-gray clouds off the west and they piled up in a large, dark canopy. I watched as the sky shifted and two terns with long orange beaks glided on rigid wings down the wind's invisible road. Then one hung motionless against the wind just above me and cocked his head to eye me as I walked the sand below him. Moments later a pearlescent, dreamy light, like a fine tulle veil on a beautiful white bride, replaced the blotchy sky. The wind became soft as a moth on my cheek. The storm had danced around me in a sort of waltz, and the sea began to calm, defeating the stalwart surfers. Suddendly the day became radiant with sunshine and warmth, the air light with salty sea breezes.

I feel serene as a Buddha and the calm surrounds me like a scent. I say a prayer of thanks for being alive on such a day, in such a place.

A boat ride down McGirts Creek

Florida Scrub Jay

Did you know that the Florida Scrub Jay is the only species of bird that lives nowhere but Florida? The scrub jays are social, cooperative birds. The birds help each other raise offspring and watch for danger. In late summer, the jays pluck acorns from shrubby oaks and bury them in the sand, one at a time. Each jay has a 30-acre territory and buries a lot of acorns--about 8,000 acorns each! In the winter months, the jays dig up the acorns and eat them, seeming, say researchers, to recall where they buried each acorn! Amazing!