When the west wind blows...

On Long Beach Island, a barrier island off the southern coast of NJ it means:

hot oppressive heat waves that blow in from the mainland
black biting flies that hitch a ride in for a day at the beach to dine on ankles and toes
searing sand that blisters bare feet on the mad dash to the water
water so cold (the warm water of the gulf stream is also blown offshore) that same blistered feet and fly-bitten ankles and toes turn numb

welcome to the beach on days too hot to really enjoy it
hard to appreciate but it's true - some days it's just too hot to go to the beach
this was one of those weekends - two full days when just trying to breathe is a chore

the dog is hiding under a self-built foxhole and is getting good at catching flies mid air
dragonflies dive like kamakaze pilots and take quick rests on any part of your body
sailors stay in port drinking beer with photos of sailboats on the label
hydrangeas wilt and there's not enough shade for everyone to find a comfortable reading spot

even so, unable to sleep on the second floor of an unairconditioned beach house last night, I was able to hear the waves crashing on shore in the distance and though the sky was hazy all day - the stars were out and I like to think also listening to rhythm of a west wind night

into dunes the last drift of a wave

Hot nights

inviting
moonlight
heat
waves
across
the
meadow



the meadow curves into sky moist tonight



ravishing
night
the
full
red
moon

Summertime...and the livin' is

ripe ...hot...colorful.  At the local farmers market this week:

boquets of spicy color















bicycles park at the train station

   vendors meet the sky



everyone loves the kettle korn lady

sundresses and lemonade

farmers market

all the local color

in neighbors' baskets

Sunday mornings

If Sunday evenings are a blue hue then Sunday mornings also have a color feel. To me it is a tender green - the quiet color of new shoots. While Sunday eves have a melancholy tone, Sunday mornings are restful and thoughtful. No conversation in the distance - more of a solitary soulful flavor. In the Christian world it is traditionally a time for prayer. In a non Christian household it may be a time for buns or bagels. I enjoy a good crumb bun or sesame bagel on Sunday mornings.

This Sunday morning I am sitting by the bay. There is a sailboat in the distance, a kayak drifts with the current and soft waves lap the shore. Gulls and other busy birds call and chatter. The breeze is cooling yet gentle. The sun is a soft promise today. In a short time, my solitude will be interrupted and the day will take on a new color.

Until then...

reeds rippling in the breeze a hammock's own tempo

Summer ripens

An egret wades ashore

Gathering storm

Family & friends

The sky celebrates

Sharing gifts from the sea - Fourth of July 2011

Life as art

porch rocker

the tilt between

life and still-life*

first published bottle rockets

Lightning and stillness

Lightning struck a tree about 500 feet from my kitchen seat. I was reading Sunday's paper (on Wednesday) and my head was angled just enough to capture the storm outside as well as the words I was reading.

the strike
a flashboombolt
inside my chest

It was as magnificent as it was terrorizing. Fear and awe. I could not process it in my mind - way too close. Stillness was all that was left. And fleeting beauty.