It was love at first sight... the day I met The Beach

That day, in 1973, at the age of 25, was the first time I had ever seen the sea - and it was love at first sight. The beach was all I had ever imagined it to be - soft, white sand, shells strewn here and there, little crabs scurrying for cover as I walked on the wet sand where the tide had left its mark.

I looked at the waves with their white crests, a beautiful sight to behold. Perpetual motion, hypnotic, soothing, yet disturbing.  There and then I decided that the water was the domain of the sharks and the beach was mine - mine to walk, mine to search for beach treasures, mine to leave footprints on and mine to sit and dream, for hours, while the waves crashed in a never-ending crescendo, alluring, calling, but also warning,

"In joy thou hast lived. 
Beware of the Sea! 
If thou hearest the cry of the gull on the shore, 
Thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more."

Where the wild grass grows

Camera : Fuji FinePix 2800Zoom
Taken in my garden (Tarlton, Gauteng, South Africa)

This is a corner in my garden at my wildlife pond where I allow the indigenous wild grasses and weeds to grow wild. It’s a real haven for small wildlife, birds and insects. All the trees here are indigenous as well – White Stinkwood (Celtis africana) and some Sweet Thorn (Acacia karroo), a favourite for nesting birds because of all the thorns.

Dedicated to all wild-grasses lovers!

They’re building ’em up
skeletons of brand new palaces,

glass is shining everywhere
so neat are the lines
converging and rising from the sea
that feeds my eyes with watery
veins. Though
the place I like most,
is where the wild grass grows,
where angry bikers hit mud hills
and thick-skinned fishermen cradle
pet-boats between one pint
and the other.
—Eszty Arod

::

Regaining my connection

I sat down on the grass, crossing my legs yoga-style, and took a deep breath. Watching the river flow by deep and strong, sending ripples to the bank, I felt myself calm down. Today had not been a good day and I knew I needed to get out into the fresh air to think things over. His words were still ringing in my ears and I felt my heart cringing in pain. What had led to this? Was it my fault?

I closed my eyes and felt the warmth of the sun on my shoulders. Proof that life goes on, no matter what. I opened my eyes and took in the scenery around me. A Cormorant landed in a tree on the opposite bank and I could see it feeding its young. They will soon have to face the large and sometimes hostile world out there one of these days and I wished that I could be there for them if and when adversity strikes.

My thoughts returned to my heart-ache. I realised that, unlike birds, we have a certain amount of control over adversity, over what happens to us. We can do something about it. Getting up and brushing myself off, I walked back to my car. My mind was clear, I knew what I had to do.

A sense of well-being

As I laboured, packing the rocks for my new water feature, I felt a certain sense of satisfaction in the gnawing pain in my back. Physical labour — feeling the weight of the rocks, their smoothness, their warmth from where they had been lying in a pile in the sun for a couple of weeks — gives me a sense of accomplishment. I stood back, surveying my handiwork and feel an exquisite sense of well-being.