separate stories: encounters of species #2

Thursday, 23 April 2009

drew said...: Years ago, my mother and I were walking along the beach in Southern California. The wet sand, near the water, from which the tide had only recently receded, was strewn here and there with flowers. As we continued to walk along the water's edge, looking out toward the sea and ahead of us toward Ventura, the flowers continued to appear around our bare feet. Eventually we came across a battered wreath of red and white roses and it was then that I realized that the flowers were floating to the water's edge from the sea, where earlier that morning, somewhere not far off the coast, there must have been a funeral: a sailor or other lover of the ocean given back to his or her home. I have never forgotten the sadness that washed over me in that moment. Nor have I forgotten the summer that dolphins died in startling numbers by mysteriously beaching themselves on the same shore. I used to take my dog for walks on that beach. She died a long time ago as well, not far from that beach. Like the fox on the side of the road with passing truck in motion, this is a beautiful and sad and poignant photograph.; 28 April 2009 at 02:22

Thursday, 23 April 2009