On Friday. Before the weekend rush. Squeezing in some quiet time.
The sea is about a mile down the road. And a shorter distance if we use the right of way which cuts through the properties of others, including ours. The neighbor below has blocked that path. Such a great guy. Won't miss him a bit. #%!*head.
It used to be different here. Too much money and arrogance rolled in and spoiled the community feeling.
The beach though, is still unharmed, mostly because it isn't a white sand beach with entertainment and food stands and such. It's rocky and raw. And narrow. There is a lot of boat traffic on the weekends but the beach itself remains as it has been for as long as I can remember. With the occasional pile of empty beer cans carelessly left from some secret late night teen gathering.
Some Januarys are cold. This one was more like February. I found this photo of Mom and the Old Sea. Taken one super warm January not so long ago. I like to remember her like this.
I know she was thinking of Dad. Dad died the January before. Her hair was as white as the crest of the waves. Like the clouds if there had been any.
And I am caught in the white of winter. White and not so white. Which is the way it happens. And caught in how we honor days.
January was deeper this year. There was cold that moved through me in a different way. There was young death. There were old sadnesses. There were way too many new questions. There was the noticing of the whitening of the man's hair. And mine.
I am finishing January with this sense of whiteness.
This is the thirty second New Years Day here. There is a clearer view in winter. The old sea looks back at me again. It is very cold. I don't know what prompted me to open the windows and let the 22 degree air blow through the house at 4 AM. Maybe just to feel the place. As it might be without all I do to manage it. Anyway, I spent a few hours warming it back up. It was some good fresh air though.
The studio is open today. I vacuumed. Cleaned the windows. Cleaned the worktable.
I looked at this beautiful wood. Exposed. Open. Just a table.
It looked back. Again.
I don't know what prompted me.
I took the curtains down. The room is washed in light. There are two chairs now. One for my old self and one for my new self.
We did not open the champagne. We ate fruit.
Soul-0 was quite the party animal though. Drunk on cold wind.
Today I will keep the fires burning, And eat leftovers.
Maybe take a walk, breathe.
Oh yeah, I created a new folder for photos and named it Jan2015.