SWORDFERN
Rooted, I used to think.

Profile - Archive- RSS
Notes - Email - Diaryland

Purgatory - Sunday, Feb. 10, 2019
Day Fifteen - Saturday, Feb. 09, 2019
Day Fourteen - Saturday, Feb. 09, 2019
Day Thirteen - Thursday, Feb. 07, 2019
Atonement - Thursday, Feb. 07, 2019


2002-05-19 @ 11:27 p.m.
Sand Bars



I waded out along the sand bars. Way, way out... it felt like I was walking on the sea, the waves crashing around me. Drizzle fell from the sky, a real Vancouver grey day. I stood still. The sand was liquid beneath my feet, and I began to sink down. Shore birds fished beside me, above me. The finely arched wings of the whirling gulls mesmerized me. They dove up and around the sky, and I wished I could join them.

And the herons. Moving paintings. Surreal beauty. Wading and stalking the fish of the massive tidal flats.

The keynote, the climax. A bald eagle. Just a few feet above my head he hovered on the pressing winds. And dove, yellow talons outstretched, and rose with a glittering scaled herring.

People on the shore were tiny black dots. I wonder if they could see me.. wondering who would go wading on such a grey day, and wade out to the furthest piling where only the herons fish.

Those moments are my fuel for the day.

You know those annoying newspaper people that call trying to get you to subscribe? "I'm so-and-so from the Province. I was wondering if you ever get a chance to read the paper?" "umm.. apparently you guys won't deliver to where I live..." click, dead line.

I made (ex)Chris a Thai curry tonight. I showed him the cows and my secret havens amongst the abandoned structures. We cuddled the cat (who brought me a hummingbird this afternoon... still recovering/dieing in a box in my kitchen... never held a hummingbird in my hand before) then he cuddled me. Then... well... damnit. No no no, not the whole way, but... I just shove all those thoughts about who else he's been kissing out of my head. It's just kissing. Friends with benefits? Apparently. It's not like other guys even know I exist anyhow.

I think the Jersey cow is in labour.

I've gotta go.


Roots | Shoots