it’s mostly shades of complex grey and every once in a while when we use our vision, there are brilliant pops of color that truly delight and help us see other perspectives.
I’ve been a scavenger since I was very young.
SCAVENGE: search for & collect (anything usable) from discarded waste
For a few summers, I’ve walked Town Neck Beach in Sandwich, Massachusetts at sunrise and picked up trash. I’ve collected so many items with no idea how I would ever use them. So, I categorized and stored them…seeing their potential.
Late last summer I surveyed my scavenged goods and an idea was sparked.
I went to work, the hours flew by…
CREATE: to produce something new by using your talents and imagination
Thank you Russell for trying out my sea chair after rambling upon us on a chilly Town Neck Beach morning.
Source: Merriam Webster
broken, bent, torn and stained
the often discarded
have always captured my attention
in ways that newness
or perfectness never have
The verse above is from a poem of mine titled: In The Ruins
“Listen to the wind blow, watch the sunrise.”
― Fleetwood Mac
This morning a man in his 60s walked past me and I pointed the spiderwebs out to him. To me they would’ve been really hard to miss, and yet he hadn’t noticed. He was so struck by their beauty and quickly started taking pictures. He told me that he couldn’t wait to show the photos to his wife. He thanked me for pointing them out to him and walked over the boardwalk.
As I walked up the hill I passed another man, about the same age walking two little dogs. I said hello and mentioned that if he’s heading toward the boardwalk there are spiderwebs everywhere and they are so remarkable. He barely looked up and said one word to me, “disgusting”.
I thought about the stark differences of these two men. They were about the same age and visiting or living in the same area. I’m not going to make any assumptions here—not publicly anyway. However, if intellectual curiosity is a sign of open-mindedness, well…I know who I would prefer to hang out with if given the choice.
“You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what’s a life, anyway? We’re born, we live a little while, we die. A spider’s life can’t help being something of a mess, with all this trapping and eating flies. By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone’s life can stand a little of that.”
― E. B. White, Charlotte’s Web
This morning I awakened at about the time I got the call from my sister two years ago letting me know that our father had died. I get up early, not usually in the 4 o’clock hour though.
I wasn’t surprised I stirred early today with Dad on my mind. I got up, quietly pulled on yesterday’s clothes, and waited for the clock on the stove to say 5:00 before I made my coffee. I sat outside and watched the sun begin to rise over the Cape Cod Bay.
My Dad was not an early riser, definitely more of a sunset guy but he would’ve appreciated my sunrise images, especially the coyote tracks in the sand and my obsession with them now.
The coyote is the mascot of my Dad’s much-loved, alma mater—the University of South Dakota. GO YOTES!
A few days before Dad died I called to tell him that Jeff and I got stung by jellyfish while on a kayak excursion. We were FaceTiming so I showed him the welts on my arms and described the way they stung…sort of electric-like if my memory serves me correctly. I had a flight booked to come see him in a few days so we kept our call short.
This morning I remembered a song Dad used to sing to me:
Lisa, Lisa I’ve been thinkin’
what a fine world this would be,
if all the Lisa’s were transported…
far beyond the northern sea.
I miss you Dad, thanks for the company this morning.
Today, on my walk I encountered two women. Wearing a pink, Live Generously t-shirt, an older woman ignored my friendly hello for the fifth day in a row. The second woman, younger, walking two labs—one brown, one yellow turned away when I said good morning. I will keep trying.
As I age, it seems much of life is experienced within the gray areas of uncertainty. Thankfully, now at fifty-three, I’m finding not knowing is sort of interesting, perhaps even a bit wonderfully mysterious.
study in grays, June 18th, 2020
- New neighborhood signs appeared
- Easter Sunday—showered, dressed up, food, champagne, and gin rummy
- Picking the banjo, walking with Jeff, trivia with friends, a porch visit with Ellis
- Walking with friends, Lillian’s Zoom birthday party, making bagels, oh,the greys…& the blues too
My great-nephew arrived in South Dakota. Welcome to the world buddy.