“We forget that the water cycle and the life cycle are one.”
Jacques Yves Cousteau
I confess feeling hopeless today. Hopeless for our planet and for its people. Recently, I heard a scientist on NPR talk about climate change and how we are past the point of no return. “Get used to doom,” he said. I have been disheartened ever since. How does one “get used to doom?” I’m no good at that, being the eternal optimist that I am. So this morning I feel conflicted and hopeless.
I have a friend. A friend who challenges me while being nonjudgmental. Her critiques are honest yet delivered in kindness.
We’ve become estranged of late due to Life challenges on her part and mine. She is on my mind constantly. I miss her, yet currently our relationship is strained. The funny part is that I really don’t know why.
She would say that’s a cop-out and would grill me down to get at the root…but the last time we tried that it didn’t go very well.
We will remain friends – it’s just that our “new normal” hasn’t yet been discovered. Time. As all good things of value, it will take time.
“No one saves us but ourselves.
No one can and no one may.
We ourselves must walk the path.”
Path winding through a maritime forest leading to Zeke’s Basin, Fort Fisher, NC.
Under a blanketed, soft, silvery-light afternoon sky I sat alone, in my chair, reading. Snuggled close to the dunes I didn’t want interruptions. Just peace. The peace of being surrounded by the white noise of waves breaking with a soft light great for reading.
However, the bluefish were running. Small, oily, silver arrows darting through the sea sheer numbers of them attracted sheer numbers of seabirds. Gulls and pelicans and terns were circling over boiling schools of bluefish. Once I noticed I couldn’t stop watching. Pelicans dove from on high, coming back up time and again gulping down wriggling fish. Gulls, scavengers and “rats” that they are, were observed landing on the pelican’s backs, trying to steal their meal.
Birds and fish. Green sea, blue sky, muted clouds. It was a great day.
I’m totally enchanted by rill marks. Rill marks are beautiful abstracts in the beach created by sea water leaving the sand as the tide recedes back to the sea. High tide “smushes” sea water deep into the sand so when the tide goes out so does the water.
Minerals and shells in the sand create abstract designs in the rivulets.
Sometimes they look like dragons.
Sometimes they look like trees.
Most times they’re just ripples.
Sometimes they grab my attention in a most unexpected way.
Do you see the woman?
I delight at beach tracks found every morning on the beach. What creature walked this way? What were they looking for on this journey? Why do deer walk the beach? There’s nothing there for them to eat so is it for the simple joy of walking the beach? Occasionally, I’ll see signs of a scuffle between two unknown creatures and I wonder who won … and who lost.
One morning long ago I found a myriad of tiny tracks around the dunes. They weren’t heading towards the water and instead were pointing back towards one of the beach houses. I stopped the Turtle Patrol. It turned out that an undiscovered, therefore unmarked, Loggerhead turtle nest had boiled in the night. The mother had laid her eggs over the dune and into the yard of a house. The baby turtles were wandering on the road, and across the road in the parking lot of a local business. Over 200 baby turtles were saved.
Tracks tell a story. Tracks make me ponder Nature and her gifts.