From my time of birth up to my years septuagenarian, if it were my choice, I always chose to be riparian. I hate the sound of silence, for I find it rather static, but I love the sound of water, be it tidal or erratic.
A little water rushing by or falling from a height is lulling to my hearing and pleasing to my sight. It contributes to my happiness, creates a sense of calm— a sensory diversion that serves me as a balm.
So to add to my contentment, no need for feast or cake. Just plant me by a river or a waterfall or lake. All I need is just a little water in my view. If you want to make me happy, just provide the H20!!!
Click on any photo to enlarge all.
The prompt words today are erratic, feast, riparian and contribute. Here are the links:
The constant undulation and the murmur of the waves. The crashing of the breakers as they beat against the caves carved out by the chisel of the water making hives at the edges of the world that ensconced our busy lives.
It craved us as its audience. It pulled us to its shore. It calmed our petty grievances with its might roar. When it chose to rage it could wipe away our world, sweeping us away as its anger came unfurled.
At other times it lapped at us, assuaging all our pain. That’s why we returned to it, over and again. Walked along its edges, pierced its salty deep, uncovering the secrets so long within its keep.
Every morning it brought treasures to our waiting hands to examine as we walked along the morning-evened sands. Dollars from the ocean depths, stars out of the sea–– left there to be taken or to be let be
for the next beachcomber to claim them for their own to treasure on a mantel what the sea had thrown like necklaces at mardi gras, cast blindly and for free for denizens of dry worlds to collect on bended knee.
What we cast back on the waters determines ultimately what the sea will one day give back to you and me, and if we do not listen to the truth the tides may tell, the music of the waves may be our funeral knell.
I would have to say that my muse is the sea–but not the open sea. Rather, where it meets the land.
I love sand and the things it collects: seashells, jellyfish, sand dollars, starfish, puff fish, sand pipers, sea turtles and even the people who collect at the beach. It is like they have retreated as far as possible–the next step is either a boat or drowning! They tend to be individuals, slightly odd–kind of like the people from the western world who congregate in third world locales like Africa. Perhaps they are this age’s pioneers or trappers.
Oh yes. I do love the oceanside, the beach. Salt. Sand. I love what collects above the beach as well: frigate birds and pelicans, ibises, sun, moon, clouds. Above are some of the thousands of images of the beach I’ve collected over the past ten years or so.
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Muse.” What subject do you keep coming back to again and again?
Needless to say, the prompt was to show pictures in which we just couldn’t resist tilting the camera. I got a bit carried away with these strings of papel picada on a windy day. Believe me, there were dozens more and I exercised great restraint in only showing three.
I took two versions of this shot of the appetizer tray at Tres Leones B&B Restaurant. Believe me, this one with a diagonal slant was by far the more interesting.
This beautiful blue-footed booby washed ashore early one morning. I’ve shown another full shot in an earlier post, but I also love this detail.