Sandcastles

When I was very young my mother taught me how to build sandcastles. There was something immensely satisfying in packing the moist sand into a bucket, forming turrets and walls, and then decorating them with coquina shells that seemed like tiny pastel butterfly wings. We'd add spires and designs by scooping up wet handfuls of sand by the surf and dripping small bits on in little glistening globs. Each one seemed like a work of art to me.



Last Summer, we played with sand art just a bit on the beach while we vacationed in Sanibel. A small starfish took me over an hour to make, and a giant swordfish took us all day. We collected close to 1000 shells to create that one.

Last night, a friend sent me some pictures of sand art from the Cannon Beach Annual Sandcastle contest on the coast of Oregon. It takes patience, vision, and skill to create something truly beautiful. The creators of these incredible sand sculptures truly possess those attributes and more!















































If you'd like to see more, you can check out the contest's website. The photos are simply amazing!

Summer often brings out the hedonist in me. I love the break from the intensity of teaching and the time I have to slow down, enjoy life and my family, and do things that simply bring me pleasure.

Yesterday I decided to take an impromptu trip to the beach. We’re only about 45 minutes from the East Coast, so I was thinking of maybe driving over to New Smyrna with Marla and her friend Elle. Just as we were preparing to leave, my husband called on his way home from work to let me know that the weather over there was less than favorable. Not to be daunted I decided to drive another 40 minutes and head over to Clearwater. Although I dislike the traffic in the Tampa area, it was definitely worth it!





If I could have my wish, I would live on the Gulf Coast beach. I love the warm water, the seashells, the sugary sand… all of it. Maybe it has to do with the nostalgia it evokes, having spent much of my childhood on the Sarasota/Bradenton beaches, but I think it is possibly something more. Sitting on the beach, listening to the surf, looking out over the vast expanse of water while birds dip and wheel overhead is like medicine for my spirit. Troubles seem to blow away with the breeze and my heart feels lighter, younger, and free.

It gives me such joy to see the same transformation of spirit take place in my daughter, who smiles incessantly from the moment she steps onto the sand until her head hits the pillow at the end of the day. I found myself smiling in unison with her as I watched her cavort in the waves and surf, laughing with exclamations of delight as she gave herself to the wonder of the day.









I’m thinking we just might do it again next week.

What Blew In With the Storms...

A few weeks ago we had some fierce storms roll through our area resulting in five days of constant rain and frequent lightning. It reminded me of hurricane season when after the initial blast of storms we’d be besieged by rain. I generally like a rainy day or two as I enjoy sitting by the window watching the stormy winds toss the branches of our live oaks, making them dance and sway as if they were moving to some wild melody that only they might hear, but after a few days I find my enjoyment waning as I have to get out in it to go to work, take out the trash, or walk our dog.

One evening after several days of intense rain I ventured forth into the stormy weather to walk our dog Amos. Moving down our street with our golf umbrella held almost as a shield in the gusty rain, I heard a pitiful mewling coming from our neighbor’s yard. As I neared the bushes it seemed to emanate from I saw a little white blur bolt past me and disappear around the corner. I tried to follow, but soon gave up as the intensity of the storm drove me back home toward shelter. That evening I lay in the bed thinking about the poor animal and the predatory birds that I often see in our neighborhood. My husband surmised that someone had probably dumped some kittens nearby and said that he’d heard one earlier in the week but had been unable to catch it. We agreed that if we heard it again we’d try to rescue it and take it to the animal shelter where maybe it could be adopted.

Several days of chasing a feral kitten in the rain ensued with no success, until one evening as I prepared to slog through the rain to take Amos out once again for his walk I heard its cries emanating from our carport. Grabbing a flashlight I peered underneath Don’s ATV to see a thin, sick, and frightened little thing, her eyes almost swollen shut and her ears showing signs of having been in at least one skirmish. Marla brought some cheese out and we placed a little under the edge of her shelter, which she immediately gobbled up. We laid out a little trail of cheese leading to a small animal carrier, watching her dart out to grab a piece and then retreat to her shelter. When she finally reached the carrier we were able to close the door behind her, and then gave her a little canned tuna and water. The following morning we took her to our vet who confirmed that she was indeed sick with eye and respiratory infections. His advice was to see if she could be socialized into the family, which made our Marla incredibly happy, and after two weeks, our little kitten (now named Mercy) has won our hearts and provided our dog Amos with a playmate and our daughter with a sweet cuddling friend.