Saturday, April 7, 2012
Gazing across an open marsh not too far from my home near Philadelphia, I find the sights and smells I discover today as a middle aged woman transport me back to my native Michigan as a young child of eight. That day my youngest brother was in tow, as we tried to figure out a way to traverse the mushy, wet ground of our childhood marsh, trying to get ever closer to the elusive open water. Our feet sinking into the muck, our shoes at risk of disappearing for good. We never did reach the open water on that particular day, but one time after that, my brothers, a rubber raft in hand, were able to navigate through the tall reeds and cattails to launch their boat upon the water. I can still see them today in my mind's eye, out there floating along, triumphant over their success. This marsh my eyes rest upon today, with the sound of bird calls, the wind rustling amongst the grass, brings back all of those memories, the connection to marshland made many years ago as a child. Causing me to understand that connections to where I currently live are made not only in the here and now, but also from a place deep within me.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
My dog barked at the waves crashing up onto the beach as she rushed at them this morning. This morning, her first time experiencing the ocean. Digging in the sand and at times eating it, splashing at the water's edge, pulling me into the cold icy grip of the still-winter-temperature waters. This was in fact the ocean off Delaware we were wading into - not the warm Florida waters most spring break revelers typically flock to - so our legs and toes were a bit chilled, but thankfully at least, our thoughts were warmed by the beauty all around us.