Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge for this week is, celebrating reflections or shadows. I went back in time to find the reflections of a live oak branch decorated for Christmas at Brookgreen Gardens annual “Night of a Thousand Candles.” This was the venue where David proposed to me in 2011, so these gardens are very special to us.
Brookgreen Gardens, SC. Night of a Thousand Candles 2015
The next photo is closer to home at Greenfield Lake:
Greenfield Lake
Finally, we have some tall, late afternoon shadows at the beach:
For more fun photos, visit Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge by clicking HERE.
This is my first try at Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge, getting in just under the wire for the week. The topic is dear to my heart: celebrating things that remind us of nature’s beauty. The first row of photos below was taken where we live near the coast of North Carolina. The second row photos were taken in the North Carolina mountains.
Wrightsville BeachAirlie GardensLate Afternoon Sun Near Blowing RockLinville RiverMountain Lake
I hope I’m doing this right. For more info on the weekly CFFC click HERE.
The prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “zip, zero, zilch.” Use one, use ’em all, bonus points if you use all three. Have fun!
Zero is the number of romantic partners I had in the second half of the decade after my divorce. Five years doesn’t seem like such a long time now to be celibate or anything else. In the big picture, five years is not a long time when you have an abundance, a few quality friendships, dogs, and work to do on yourself. I had a romantic relationship with myself and with nature, and spiritual growth that required zero romantic distraction from other people. Of course, I didn’t know that at the time it was happening. There is power in zero, in solitude, in simplicity. Not to say my life was simple by any means.
One is not always the loneliest number, and zero doesn’t necessarily mean zilch. If you add zeros to a number, it increases the value.
Dave at Daily Ramblings shared a short Ted Talk on the origins of the number zero which started as a dot. It got me thinking of the old Cat Stevens/Yusuf album, Numbers, A Pythagorean Fairy Tale, which came out in 1975. The songs sort of told the story of the numbers one through nine and how everything changed when this new dude showed up named, Jzero. I listened to this album a lot in the second half of the decade that was the 70s. It was a confused time of my life when I kept getting distracted from college and from myself. My romantic partners during that time were distractions. I often felt lost or lost my sense of myself.
One of my favorite songs from the Numbers album was, “Drywood.” Part of it went something like,
“Like drywood takes to fire, the truth will come to you.
Like streams that seek the ocean, you will find ways through,
Like morning meets the moon, my love will guide the way.
It’s time to wipe your eyes now, and awake…..”
The song provided encouragement I needed and still holds a special place of gratitude in my heart.
Another of my favorite songs from the album was, “Home.” It’s a sweet song. Here’s an older Cat Stevens, aka, Yusuf, singing it. At the end he whispers, “Peace be with you.”
Well, time to zip up this post. Right after I add a few photos from the beach… Oh, there’s a video at the bottom.
“DANGER SUBMERGED OBJECT”A submerged rock ? A chunk of the jetty maybe?
~~~
For more streams of consciousness, rules, and such, visit our dedicated host, Linda Hill, by clicking HERE.
Here’s our most excellent prompt from our most excellent SoCS host, Linda Hill:
….“body parts.” Pick a body part and talk about it.
I can tell you right now, I can’t pick just one. But I can say thank you to all my body parts:
Thank you to my gut for telling me when I’m stressed and need to run away or play, or just rest.
Thank you to my heart for being strong and steady.
Thank you to my feet. I know now you have bone spurs in the heels. I am trying to take good care of you. I hope you like the TLC cushiony shoes. I will not walk long distances on pavement or go barefoot any more. I’m grateful the plantar fascitis is finally getting better.
Thank you to my legs for letting me know I need more magnesium and not aching so much at night since. And water probably helps.
Water. Thank you water. I know my body needs more water, more often. Thank you, body for letting me know by getting tired.
Thank you to my hips, flat and wide as you are, you have made room for babies and make my waist look smaller, even though it seems to be getting bigger. Oh well.
Thank you to my back. I know I complain about you, but you’ve had a lot of work to do over these 60 something years, and you let me know when you really need to stretch out and decompress.
Thank you for my neck and shoulders, what a work out you’ve had. Holding up so much weight. I hope you like the stretches, too.
I can’t forget the breasts. Such a mixed relationship we have. Yes, gravity has taken its toll on you ladies, but you have served me well and fed two babies. Thank you.
Thank you for my lips. I know you seem to be disappearing, but we have had many nice kisses over the years and you still know how to sing and speak well when the brain cooperates. Thank you to my throat and vocal chords and the fun with songs.
Thank you to my cheekbones, known as one of my best features.
Thank you to my freckles. I know I didn’t like you when I was young, but now I know they are angel kisses.
Thank you to my skin. I’m sorry I have abused you in the sun for so long. Thank you for teaching me acceptance with all these lines and wrinkles.
Thank you to my soft, hazel eyes that came from my mother. You’ve taught me acceptance, too. Aren’t you glad I don’t use mascara any more? Thank you for teaching me to see the beauty all around us.
Thank you to my nose and ears giving me delightful smells and sounds to enjoy, or warnings when needed.
Thank you to my hair which still has some red in it. Thinner, but still long and wavy.
Thank you to my old bones, thinner too, but still strong. I’m doing better at taking care of you. Thank you for supporting me still.
Thank you to all my body parts I haven’t mentioned, like the private ones. You ….. What can I say…. Thank you for warning me, or trying to, during the stressful relationships of the past that were not right for me. You knew all along. Thank you for letting my babies out and for holding things together all these years.
Thank you to my lungs. I’m sorry for what I did to you in my twenties. Thank you for still helping me breathe well. You like the yoga right? I know, deep breaths beyond yoga.
Thank you to my brain. I know I need to work to keep you in shape, but you still got it when it matters most. Thank you for being flexible and open minded, but helping me along the way.
Oh, how could I forget! Thank you to my hands and arms. You have worked so hard and rebelled during the hardest years, but you healed enough to be able to keep on expressing my thoughts here on this computer. I know you have hated it at times, but it’s better now. Thank you! I’ll try to take it easy on the yard work, pace myself, and wear gloves! What’s that? Okay, I’ll give you more lotion.
Freckles, wrinkles, and all.
Resting body parts
The pokeweed rash is get better thanks to an updated prednisone Rx. Since my plantar fascitis is finally almost gone, I’ve been able to walk more. Here are some places we’ve walked lately:
For more streams of consciousness, rules, etc. visit our host, Linda Hill here.
“Deep Roots are not reached by the frost.” JRR Tolkien
This weathered tree stands on a giant sand dune called “Sugarloaf” at Carolina Beach State Park. You might think that with roots exposed to much weather and erosion, the tree could topple any time. The view below suggests that its roots run deep where they can anchor into the sandy soil.
These trees have withstood hurricanes for decades.
Next, is a view from the top of “Sugarloaf.”
Tidal river trees
Standing strong for many years
Deep roots reaching down
Weather has its way
While deepest roots anchored well
Leave ghostly remnants.
At the bottom of the hill are remains of trees that stood tall long ago
Maybe these were once cypress trees.
I imagine their deep roots intertwine well below the surface.
Below is another tree at the bottom of the hill, but further back from the water. Sorry I don’t know their names (feel free to guess), but I certainly admire their perseverance.
This one seems to be holding its own.
I’m excited to be part of the 100th edition of Thursday Tree Love hosted by Parul Thakur. For more tree love, visit:
Here’s my #SoCS badge entry for 2018. I used a photo I took at the beach. It reminds me of the tidal pools my kids used to play in when they were little, but this one was more of a stream than a pool.
The Saturday Stream of Consciousness is buckets of fun! For more information on the contest and to see other entries, visit Linda G. Hill at:
It was not just another day at the beach. The water looked a little rough. But a few people were out battling the breakers. I stood in the surf, studying the wave patterns. I love swimming. When I was 18, I swam in March all the way out to the end of the pier. But this June evening 44 years later, I wasn’t sure I was up a challenge. Was I chicken? Or maybe I just didn’t feel like being tossed around and scraped on the sandy bottom. A person could break their neck.
Disappointed, I plodded back to the blanket while my sweetheart meditated with his feet planted firmly in the wet sand.
I didn’t have to prove anything to anybody, I told myself. If I didn’t feel like fighting the current, that was okay. I should trust my own judgment. David came to join me, being supportive, wanting me safe. We could see a rip current to the north. He’s a flyer, not a swimmer, though I have no doubt that if I was in trouble, he’d jump in and save me.
Ten minutes later, I looked at the ocean. People were swimming. Not many, but some. Yes, they were younger than me. But the ocean loves me. And I love the ocean. The water seemed a little calmer. I got up and walked a few yards south, then turned toward the waves. There was a break. I went for it. Got past the breakers and swam a few strokes. Maybe I wanted to prove something to myself.
The undertow pulled hard. Okay, that’s enough, said the ocean, or maybe it was my guardian angel. There was another break in the waves, and I scampered back up on the beach without getting knocked down. Feeling energized. Feeling strong. Not chicken.
Within minutes, the sky grew dark to the north. Was that lightening?
The storm reached out over the ocean…
…sending a cool blast of air charged with energy. Was it a warning? Or an enticement to stay and watch the show?
The storm crossed in front us traveling along the horizon
and chased the remaining swimmers ashore with her dragon head.
Today’s Stream of Consciousness prompt is “hot/cold.”
I don’t usually mind the heat, especially with all the shade my trees give off. But last week, I was in the mountains, up around the Blue Ridge, and when I got back home, I thought, Man, it’s really HOT here. Hot and humid. I guess I had gotten used to cooler temps in the mountains. The other thing that happened when I got home is that my allergies hit me in the head, like a face mask monster in the movie, Alien. Okay, I’m exaggerating a little. When I was in the mountains, I was not congested at all. Before I left, I worried I was getting a cold. During my visit to a dryer, cooler climate, I could breathe easy. Then back home, Bam! Sinus headache. It might help if I go to the beach. It’s usually better at the beach.
I wonder if I move to the mountains, if I’ll miss the beach. Plenty of time to explore options. No hasty moves. I’ll have to research with more trips to the soft, old, green hills of Appalachia.
We can’t change the weather, but we can choose who we weather the storm with.
Or maybe we can change the weather. As a species, we’ve made a mess. Maybe we can clean it up. Every little bit helps. We do what we can. Plant more trees, save more trees, turn off the lights, eat lower on the food chain….
Be cool.
The Saturday Stream of Consciousness is brought to you by Linda G. Hill at:
1. Your post must be stream of consciousness writing, meaning no editing, (typos can be fixed) and minimal planning on what you’re going to write.
2. Your post can be as long or as short as you want it to be. One sentence – one thousand words. Fact, fiction, poetry – it doesn’t matter. Just let the words carry you along until you’re ready to stop.
3. There will be a prompt every week. I will post the prompt here on my blog on Friday, along with a reminder for you to join in. The prompt will be one random thing, but it will not be a subject. For instance, I will not say “Write about dogs”; the prompt will be more like, “Make your first sentence a question,” “Begin with the word ‘The’,” or simply a single word to get your started.
4. Ping back! It’s important, so that I and other people can come and read your post! For example, in your post you can write “This post is part of SoCS:” and then copy and paste the URL found in your address bar at the top of this post into yours. Your link will show up in my comments for everyone to see. The most recent pingbacks will be found at the top. NOTE: Pingbacks only work from WordPress sites. If you’re self-hosted or are participating from another host, such as Blogger, please leave a link to your post in the comments below.
5. Read at least one other person’s blog who has linked back their post. Even better, read everyone’s! If you’re the first person to link back, you can check back later, or go to the previous week, by following my category, “Stream of Consciousness Saturday,” which you’ll find right below the “Like” button on my post.
6. Copy and paste the rules (if you’d like to) in your post. The more people who join in, the more new bloggers you’ll meet and the bigger your community will get!
7. As a suggestion, tag your post “SoCS” and/or “#SoCS” for more exposure and more views.
The possibility of silent fireworks has been tugging at me ever since it emerged in my Stream of Consciousness on Saturday. So, here’s a follow up.
Tuesday night we went out on our friend’s boat to watch fireworks along both sides of the waterway between the mainland and the beach. I was surprised how many different shows we could see, from the city display in the distance to people shooting off fireworks from private docks and small islands. I delighted in the sparkling bursts of color, but even more than the fireworks, I delighted in the moonlight reflecting on the water and on the section of beach not cluttered with houses, docks, or hotels.
I kept wondering how sea turtles and birds would be affected by the boom and brightness of the fireworks. We thought our coon hound Doodle wasn’t bothered by fireworks like our other July 4th trembling dogs who’ve since crossed over the rainbow bridge. But when we got home, Doodle went right to the bedroom and planted herself on the carpet until it was time for her walk. After the walk, she went right back to the bedroom. We let her sleep with us, realizing that the neighborhood firecrackers must have upset her while we were gone.
I barely noticed Doodle in the bed, because I had taken a Dramamine for the boat ride. It worked well, but the drowsiness hit me at about 10PM and took 24 hours to get out of my system.
The next day, I happened to come across an article about silent fireworks displays in places like Italy and California. It’s not just a good idea for dogs, birds, and other animals, but also for human ears. After all those years of listening to loud music in my youth, I don’t want to do any more damage to my hearing.
I emailed our city council asking them to please look into the possibility and sent them this article for more information.
Anything is Possible! 