Monthly archive: June, 2008

Clouds billowed up on the horizon this morning in colors ranging from pale ash to talcum powder white. They were illuminated by a ray of dawn light that ripped through a cathedral window of gray sky. The brightness refracted off of them revealing shapes in the form of human breasts and buttocks, of fists and fingers, and of knuckles, all punching upward to infinity. The gunmetal sea was in an unruly mood, insistent swells careened in from the north.

At times the sound of the ocean is like wind off the prairies, I thought as I walked along, the pounding surf so loud and so constant it soon stops being noise at all and becomes, instead, the white noise of the moment.

It would turn hot and humid later that day, but this morning the air was clear and crisp, the light intense.

My husband and I walked along the deserted beach following two familiar sets tracks that stretched out in front of us. Our dogs occasionally cast a backward glance to confirm we were still coming safely behind. We walked briskly for the exercise, but it is also my time of reflection and spiritual connection with the world; a time to search for tranquility.

As always our dogs Kashá and Compeón were energized on the trip out, scouring the beach for smells only recognized in their canine world. I wondered what information they picked up as they stopped to snuff and dig briefly in the loose sand. The female, Kashá, raised her hind leg as through mounting a bicycle while her male companion patiently waited his turn to mark the spot. Then they rushed headlong up the beach flushing out a loose knot of buzzards lolling on the shore.

The dogs chased them, forcing the big birds to break into their hop-a-long gait. Eventually they lumbered into flight, swooping upward into some nearby palms like fly ash, their white-tipped wings and silver legs pumping back and forth for lift. The palm blades combined into a blur of movement– black, silver, and green. The buzzards settled on fronds, quick stepping unsteadily to regain their balance and, like gargoyles, hunched their helmeted black heads under dark capes of savagery.

The dogs moseyed over to investigate what carrion the birds might have left behind, but we called them off. They came bounding, tails round housing and eyes gleaming amber with joy. Kasha’s wet nose bumped my hand on her pass by to let me know… to let me know, what?

That we are one, I suppose; that we belong and will look after one another should the need arise.

On the return we walked close to the sea, the surf erasing our passing in the scallops of sand. The sun had risen high above the headland by then and the glare was welding-arc bright as we moved along the shore; reflections off the bubbles left by the sea glimmered like a thousand iced diamonds out across the flats where the surf washed constantly at the water’s edge.

At the headland, where we leave the water to head home along the dirt road, little waves snickered at the rocky precipice and a mass of dark green foliage vaulted high above our heads. A waterfall of pale green vines tumbled down the side of dense trees where a pelican sat. As I watched it kicked off its perch and wheeled out in a wide circle over the emerald bay, plunging into the water to spear a small fish.

And then we headed home to the rest of our day and the mundane chores of living.