In memory of those who died.
Sarah and I took an early morning walk today. We hoped that the time of day would make the bird viewing easier. It did just that, but for me there was another huge benefit. The morning fog hadn’t burned off yet and the landscape was shrouded in a light haze, turning familiar scenes into misty magic.
Once upon a time we rented a house in Petaluma, California. It was very modern with bleached wood, sharp angles and a lot of glass. A particularly nice thing about it was that it had a very funky backyard that was the complete opposite of the structure. There was a falling down shed a rickety fence a bench made out of a single slab of unfinished wood. It was unkempt and unplanted.
We loved it.
We were in Maine on Memorial Day and I went to the Rockport cemetery to take some photographs as a remembrance of the trip. It was foggy that morning and after a lot of attempts at pictures of headstones and trees in the fog, I settled on this one which hardly has any gravesites in it but is a rather haunting of reminder of the fate that awaits us all.
Meditation, for me, helps me understand the incredible beauty and fragility of life. Our overblown sense of self and little puffed up egos fade as stillness clears our mind. I planted this tree. It was less than two feet tall then. It will still be there after I’m gone. That makes me happy.
It’s been lousy weather around here lately. Fog and light drizzle ruled our days. However, yesterday things changed and the low front that has dominated our coastline moved out to sea as cooler/dryer, crystal clear weather moved in.
That morning as the sun peeked over the pines on the easterly shore of Rockport Harbor the water below our condo turned a brilliant gold, welcoming a drop dead beautiful day.
Here in Maine the boating crowd likes to fly flags. So it’s no surprise that the foggy western shore of Rockport harbor is currently positively bursting with “old glory” waving in the breeze.