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Showing posts from January, 2015

Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad

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Happy 51st anniversary to mom and dad. We love you very much and love every minute we spend with you.  (Elvis was there because Elvis is everywhere and always.  If you don't get this, it's probably because you are young. [If you don't know where you were when you heard the news on August 16, 1977, you're young.])


This is a pink rose rather than a red one, but we're all a little too long in the tooth to be too literal minded (and if we are not, we will have us carted away).  Here's to you, mom and dad:

Skywatch Friday: When Moody is a Good Thing

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There's nothing quite like a day that starts with promises of rain but not with certainty. The play of light and color is beautiful.

Breakage BY MARY OLIVER I go down to the edge of the sea. How everything shines in the morning light! The cusp of the whelk, the broken cupboard of the clam, the opened, blue mussels, moon snails, pale pink and barnacle scarred— and nothing at all whole or shut, but tattered, split, dropped by the gulls onto the gray rocks and all the moisture gone. It's like a schoolhouse of little words, thousands of words. First you figure out what each one means by itself, the jingle, the periwinkle, the scallop        full of moonlight.
Then you begin, slowly, to read the whole story.
Skywatch Friday

Skywatch Friday: Happy New Year

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In November, Coastal Living ran an excellent essay by author Jonathan Miles, "Forgotten Beaches."  I have saved the essay because I like to reread the last paragraph, part of which reads:  
[A] beach is a state of mind.  It's a child's brain igniting from the wonder of the land's edge, from the immensity of the landless horizon.  It's glancing up from a novel to glimpse the magnitude ofthe Earth.  It's lifting an upside-down plastic bucket to reveal a castle made of sand, the fortress fora fleeting beachfront civilization.  It'ss the sand-encrusted, sun-roasted, slightly barbecued feeling at the close of a shoreline day.  It's the way an ice-cream stand appears like a roadside oasis on the way home, the way  a soft-serve cone feels like the antidote to an overdose of sun and water, pleasure remedying pleasure.  We go to the beach, in some ways to liberate ourselves from the distinctions of life, because at the water's edge we are all rendered …