Walks

A turquoise swell, the Southern Ocean swinging around the point just part Seal Rock, into Fisherman's Bay, the beach, more orange lichen covered granite rocks.

The dog and I still, watch, she waiting for my next move. We've walked up from Horseshoe Bay in Port Elliot, along the beach, up ther rocks, the winding path down to Crockery Bay, then up the coastal way, the wind easy, light just right, the sea ambitious, swollen with tide.

Three surfers slide into the waves on their boards, past the lone seal, head out a few hundred meters to Frenchman's Rock where the waves swell and break long. They chat as they start off in the cold waters, joking about how warm it is. I'm annoyed, wanting the place to myself. Soon another walker appears with two dogs.

I move off, past them, stop again to watch the waves crash against more rocks, the spume high and proud.

The dog runs ahead, happier to be returning to the beach. I hear her barking with joy as she races along the shoreline.

I follow enjoying the lunge of the sea, the swish of its return, the roll of the stones and shells in the sudden surf, smile as the dog runs back up to me. I go to pat her, but she's too excited, runs off again.

She's getting old. I treasure these moments







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River Changes

Weather's getting warmer here. The Hindmarsh River will soon not get to reach the sea as drier, hotter weather and irrigation take their toll. In the last few weeks the mouth of the river has moved quite dramatically, first to the left, then to the right. Those serpentine curls I so love.The pelican's moved on. Nothing stays the same. Reminds me how much of my life I've lived in rigid ways, the should's, the critic's rarely silent voice (s), the 'doing being' rather than being.

The beginnings of a poem

She waves her turquoise hand
an inflection with the breeze.

home

There are two Southern Right whales off the coast here, in the bay about 200 metres off Seal Rock (Port Elliot, South Australia). A mother and her calf. Over the last dozen or so years whales have started coming back here in the winter before returning to Antarctic waters in September. So these two are late in leaving. It may be that the mother is waiting for her calf to put on more weight.


Nearby is Victor Harbor, which in the 1800's was a whaling port. or a long time whales, having been mercilessly hunted, stopped coming here.



Their return  speaks of their deep intelligence, the deep mystery of life, places of home known so deeply, even when not visited for a century and more.



No wonder we watch spell bound. Perhaps there's an opportunity to return to wonder in life?