Saturday Morning Beach Report

Big waves. Strong light. Sand bermed up, water pooling into salty lakes, debris etching the sand.

There were many birds taking advantage of the pools of water, and on the dry sand there were turkey vultures. Maybe they were displaced by the fires. Maybe they heard the crash of the waves and knew there would be carnage for them to feast on. Turkey vultures do show up on the beach from time to time--but they're not a regular feature.

Later this afternoon at home, I sat in my bedroom, reading, and the door to the hall was open.  I looked up and caught a beam of light sitting in the chair. The days are short, but the light is dramatic this time of year--both inside and out.

Beach Report

Waves crashing over the breakwater at Channel Islands Harbor yesterday

The waves have been immense the last couple of days, the tide so high that yesterday trucks came and pulled the lifeguard stations back from the water several feet. Today there were pools of water as far back as the dunes as a result of the high tides.

Willets and snowy plovers must have felt like they had swank resorts with their own private islands.  I can hear the waves crashing from my driveway which is just over a mile away from the beach. At the risk of redundancy, I'll say again that I love this place. It is paradise.

This picture does not do justice to the enormity of the waves

I don't always know what to do these days without my mother here. I'm greatly relieved that she's in Iowa, yet I'm uneasy sometimes that she's so far away. While making phone inquiries as to the cost of transporting someone's remains to a university deeded body program, it could be helpful to look across the room and see that person eating cookies and yogurt.

I would like to say that I've been able to turn my attention to writing. Instead I find myself googling things like "how to help a Syrian family," "interfaith organizations," "how to support religious freedom." Like the ocean, the world is in an uproar. Like most people I don't really know what to do about it personally. What are you doing, dear reader?

Most likely my volunteer gig after the first of the year will involve sea lions or the Channel Islands. But what I should probably be doing is sitting in the hallway at a social services office in Iowa, weeping and gnashing my teeth until I get my mom on Medicaid--and perhaps while ensconced there, stepping up on a soapbox to rail against Donald Trump and Ted Cruz. The bill for the third month of nursing home care has arrived and I've made my third attempt at bureaucratic hoop jumping. Sometimes I think I have too much faith in everything.

I've been wondering too if my life will soon feel settled. The last seven years have held a lot of turmoil. Divorce, death, and drama have been recurring themes here in Margaritaville. I do believe the winds of change are blowing. I have faith in that. Really I do.

Not really feeling festive just yet, but here's a Christmas wreath

Friday Morning Beach Report

 In one direction, the sky streaks of gray and blue, clouds like strands of raw wool unraveling above Anacapa.

In another direction, the clouds ripped apart, baring blue sky.

The waves looked as sturdy as semi-trucks this morning as two men stood on the sand, looking out to sea. They talked briefly, then turned and ran. Surfers, I'll bet. I couldn't stay long enough to confirm that they returned with their boards, but I'm grateful for the reminder to seize the moment.

Wednesday Beach Report

 Willets, wind, and waves.

The Santa Ana winds were blowing. Notice how the spray gets blown backwards. For some more backwards news about the winds of change, read this.

Catching the Wave

taken at Hollywood Beach 

The waves have been really big in my neighborhood. I'm not a surfer, but I feel caught in another sort of wave. Check it out.

Wednesday Morning Beach Report/Winter in Southern California

Wave devours wave as fishermen joust toward the surf

and empty lifeguard stations stand sentry as squadrons of pelicans disappear into the haze.

Another Margarita Monday

Clouds are featherbeds for greedy gods

while top-hatted trash cans stagger toward safe harbor

and the tern's hairdo is made either more ridiculous or more fabulous by the wind.

The color of the ocean is as un-nameable as fear

And there are no lifeguards who will save us.

A note on the photographs: Except for the tern, all were take by me. Tern photo from www.nambucca.com.au

Saturday Morning on an Empty Lifeguard Tower, Saving No One

Moon a torn erasure, islands a lilac smudge. Waves into green, towering up from blue. Surfers as black and as plentiful as crows. But certainly not a "murder." What then? A crash, a foam, a swell? All the while a couple stands on the sand, he behind her with their backs to the sun as if they want to make their shadows one.

As I walk home, more surfers run toward the beach. Carpe, I think. If only I knew the Latin for wave.

photo credit: vcstar.com

I've got an idea....

Let's go down to the beach and look at the big waves.

And let's invite the family.

Look! Dolphins!!!

Photographer's note: These birds need a human with some photography skills.