“We know only too well that what we are doing is nothing more than a drop in the ocean. But if the drop were not there, the ocean would be missing something.” ― Mother Teresa
The ocean is something that has always been part and parcel of my existence. A thousand people may say that. But I know there is a connection.It is as strong and real as God is real.
I don't really care for that perfect, blue peaceful skim.
Give me the crashing. The storm. The wild. The freezing.
And the churning. Ever restless. Ever tormenting the shore.
“She loves the serene brutality of the ocean, loves the electric power she felt with each breath of wet, briny air.”― Holly Black, Tithe
When I was a child we would go to Sooke. West side of Vancouver Island. The sea was even more wild. There the sea would wrench in torment more often .
This is calm, compared to what I used to see at Sooke. These days I search it out. I watch and wait for the storms to hit.
The undertow rattling on rocks all slimy with kelp. Smashing against boulders and logs. With the crack of a thousand rocks.
And the beating a thousand drums.
And I never get too close to the sea. I have always feared some sea monster lurking at the shore's edge. Just waiting to gobble me up.
Some days it still feels like that.
Now I seek out the din of the surf.
And feel the rain , the chill, the cold, the spray tossing through me.And I feel whole again. Like I have visited an old friend.....
“I like a good story and I also like staring at the sea-- do I have to choose between the two?” ― David Byrne, How Music Works
AUTUMN by ROGER WRAY
....It is youthful, mirthful, frolicsome---the child of summer's joy--and on every side there are suggestions of juvenility and mischief.
Why do the poets feel that autumn is ancient? He romps over the earth, chasing the puppy-like gales, making them scamper over the mirrored pools, and ruffling their surface till the water reeds hiss him away.
He revels in boisterous gaiety, playing pranks like a schoolboy on the first day of his holidays. He turns on the raintaps to try the effect.
He daubs a few toadstools blood-red, he switches on summer sunshine for an hour, and then lets loose a tempest. He torments the stately trees, tears their foliage off in handfuls, rocks them backwards and forwards till they groan.
And then SCAMPERS away for a brief interval leaving heavenly peace behind him.
The fallen leaves are set racing down the lane. With madcap destructiveness he wastes his own handiwork, stripping the finery from the woods and forests. The bare trees sigh and shiver, but he mocks them with howls and caterwaulings.
Then he sets the bracken afire and pauses to admire the October tints.
Finally, with deceptive golden sunshine, he tempts the sage out of doors, suddenly drenches him, and drives him home saturated to the skin.
The SAGE thereupon changes his raiment, and murmurs about the solemnity of the dying year and the pensive beauties of autumn!
The whole spirit of autumn is FROLICSOME and changeful as that of an eager child.
The solemn tints are the grotesque hues of the harlequin, and the mournful winds are suggestive of young giants playing leapfrog over the tree tops.
The lengthening period of darkness is a reminder of the long sleep of a healthy child, and when the sun awakes each autumn morning he rubs his misty eyes and wonders what antics he will see before bed time.
Our eyes surfeit themselves on the gorgeous feast of colours ----purple, mauve, vermilion, saffron, russet, silver, copper, bronze and old gold.
Who can look at the mirthful fun of autumn and talk about senility?
The leaves are dipped and soaked in fiery hues and the mischievous artist will never rest till he has used up every drop.
Spring is a serenade, but Autumn is a nocturne.In the waning of the year, the world is full of sombre solemnity.
Spring is a lovely maiden. Summer a radiant bride.
But AUTUMN is a tomboy whose occasional quietness is more alarming than his noisiest escapades.
"Autumn" excerpts from Roger Wray's essay in "1000 Beautiful Things 1948"
"A woodpecker's drilling Echoes to the mountain clouds."
-Dakotsu lida
Fall has brought the gorgeous Pileated Woodpecker scuffing around the seed trays set out for the Stellar Jays
And with the Jays and the massive woodpeckers, comes Spencer, the neighbours' cat. Eager to have a look.
Mornings are cool and clean.
Sometimes you can here the woodpecker smack away at tree trunks. He likes carpenter ants best.
But lately, he likes to sit in the seed pan and scare away everyone else while he stuffs himself silly.
"The day should come when all of the forms of life will stand before the court, The Pileated Woodpecker,as well as the coyote and bear, the lemmings as well as the trout in the streams."
-W.O.Douglas
They love to dig in wood. Bugs. Ants. Termites. Yum yum.
A pair will stay together in the same territory all year long.
In this area, they are all around the woods, but I haven't seen them in a while till last week.
It is said that they are the size of a crow, but I figured that this one was larger. He was cheeky and smart, and knew how to get what he wanted.
Using his tail to steady and balance on the surfaces he latched onto.
"Autumn is the hardest season. The leaves are all falling. Falling as if they are in love with the ground." -Andrea Gibson
It's a good thing to leave fallen tree trunks to rot as the Pileated Woodpecker loves this sort of thing.
I just love watching them hang off the fence or the wooden plant boxes, as if they were Christmas ornaments....
"A woodpecker can tap twenty times on a thousand trees and get nowhere, but stay busy. Or he can tap twenty-thousand times on one tree and get dinner.” -Seth Godin
Photographs 2017
