A few sprinkles of welcome rain over the weekend made perfect timing for a beach walk.
Look at this GIGANTIC skeleton for Halloween. Not too scary, right?
Then I saw some literal beach bunnies on the upper sidewalk.
Beautifully overcast, no whales or dolphin, but the ubiquitous surfer reigns supreme.
Besides me, who wants to pet my beautiful bobcat?
It’s the witching hour…the veil is thinning…it’s the time when all my nocturnal creatures visit Casa de Enchanted Seashells. PS Check out the exact time of this video, lol.
by John Keats
‘Tis ” the witching time of night”,
Orbed is the moon and bright,
And the stars they glisten, glisten,
Seeming with bright eyes to listen —
For what listen they?
For a song and for a charm,
See they glisten in alarm,
And the moon is waxing warm
To hear what I shall say.
Moon! keep wide thy golden ears —
Hearken, stars! and hearken, spheres!
Hearken, thou eternal sky!
I sing an infant’s lullaby,
A pretty lullaby.
Listen, listen, listen, listen,
Glisten, glisten, glisten, glisten,
And hear my lullaby!
Though the rushes that will make
Its cradle still are in the lake;
Though the linen then that will be
Its swathe, is on the cotton tree;
Though the woollen that will keep
It warm is on the silly sheep —
Listen, stars’ light, listen, listen,
Glisten, glisten, glisten, glisten,
And hear my lullaby!
Child, I see thee! Child, I’ve found thee
Midst of the quiet all around thee!
Child, I see thee! Child, I spy thee!
And thy mother sweet is nigh thee!
Child, I know thee! Child no more,
But a Poet evermore!
See, see, the lyre, the lyre,
In a flame of fire,
Upon the little cradle’s top
Flaring, flaring, flaring,
Past the eyesight’s bearing.
Awake it from its sleep,
And see if it can keep
Its eyes upon the blaze —
Amaze, amaze!
It stares, it stares, it stares,
It dares what no one dares!
It lifts its little hand into the flame
Unharmed, and on the strings
Paddles a little tune, and sings,
With dumb endeavour sweetly —
Bard art thou completely!
Little child
O’ th’ western wild,
Bard art thou completely!
Sweetly with dumb endeavour,
A Poet now or never,
Little child
O’ the western wild,
A Poet now or never!
This is what it looked like before a brief thunderstorm delighted all of us in SoCal.
It sounded as if someone was throwing around trash cans on the side of the house so I went out to look, and realized it was thunder! That’s an example of how novel an experience a thunder and lightening storm is for us.
We haven’t had rain in such a long time and it smells fresh right now, exactly the definition of the word petrichor.
Petrichor is the term coined in 1964 by Australian scientists to describe the unique, earthy smell associated with rain. It’s said to be caused by the water from rain, along with certain compounds like ozone, geosmin, and plant oils.
(https://www.acs.org/content/dam/acsorg/education/students/highschool/chemistryclubs/infographics/petrichor-the-smell-of-rain.pdf)
It looks like a bit more rain might visit us in the next few days. We’re excited to fill up our rain barrels and receive the bounty of Mother Nature.
A couple of my favorite pics taken at one of my favorite locations, Sunset Hill Park, overlooking the marina and Puget Sound.
I haven’t been lucky enough to spot whales here — not yet — but we did see a couple eagles in a pine tree. They flew away before I could snap a photo.
It’s a bit hazy, no snow on the Olympic Mountains, yet continually mesmerizing and so sparkly.
After the winds and rain subsided, I checked on my garden and discovered two previously hidden cucumbers.
I remember planting a few seeds of the pickling variety but everyone was all mixed up and I couldn’t tell which was which until I saw these gigantic specimens.
I haven’t completely decided if I’ll eat them fresh and possibly not pickle them, because I didn’t discover any others that were ready.
And this one, too, not quite as deformed.
I’ve had success with pickling vegetables, here’s a post about that:
https://enchantedseashells.com/2015/07/06/easy-peasy-refrigerator-pickles-meatlessmonday/
There was an unexpected sprinkle this morning; not forecasted, but welcome nonetheless.
Happy Monday!
Not this time.
My son takes the greatest photos.
A couple weeks ago, Lady Debbie, a commercial fishing boat, ran aground south of Westport, Washington. Luckily, there were no injuries and all six crewmembers walked away.
I wonder why she’s still there, unsalvaged, because it looks like it’s already starting to deteriorate and is now a canvas for taggers.
I wasn’t with the fam on this surfing beach trip so I didn’t get to actually see the vessel, but the last time I was there, I discovered a treasure trove of sand dollars which made me VERY happy.
There are hardly any plants that grow in the sand here, so when I saw these marshy reeds up against the seawall, I peeked through and snapped a few photos of the pretty ocean.
I wonder if this is the same hawk or a family member. Look at those talons!
It seems as if they no longer care if I’m outside and simply carry on with their business.
How cool is that?
Last night’s pink cotton candy clouds. It was really quite spectacular.
So much beauty if you look for it.
When it cooled off slightly in late afternoon, I went out to the garden to water plants because it’s been SO HOT and everything is parched. We haven’t had rain in a long, long time.
I heard chirpy calls that sounded a bit distressful. How could I tell? I like to think that I can communicate with animals–whether or not that’s true, it does make me listen to them, and I feel that I can distinguish one sound from another, sort of like when you know why your baby is crying, whether it’s hungry or tired or frustrated…
At that precise moment that I heard those chirps, I was walking on my stone pathway and I looked down. There, camouflaged on a rock, I spied a tiny bird. If I hadn’t paid attention, I would have stepped on him/her!
I ran back on the deck to grab my phone, and he had hopped up on an exposed tree root.
I began to have a chat with this darling creature who appeared to be lost and a bit scared. I can understand why, because he’s definitely NOT supposed to be sitting on a gray rock exposed to all sorts of danger.
I brought over a small pan of fresh water and watched him hop around a little and flex his wings, so I surmised he had fallen out of a nest and wasn’t actually injured.
Again I became aware of lots of birds circling the area, yellow chirpy finches calling out to this little guy, so I knew it was a Lesser Goldfinch fledgling, a common bird in Southern California and one I often am lucky enough to see around here.
From the tree root he hopped onto a hanging succulent and finally made it all the way into a basin shaped planter on top of the tree stump. With his family encouraging him to join them and fly to safety, I thought it was best to give them all space and went in the house.
Later, just before dark, I checked and he was gone. As soon as I woke up this morning, I checked again and there’s no sign of him.
Fingers crossed, I’m hopeful that this was another happy ending at Casa de Enchanted Seashells.
I discovered a lovely poem by Mary Oliver:
Goldfinches
In the fields
we let them have-
in the fields
we don’t want yet-where thistles rise
out of the marshlands of spring, and spring open-
each bud
a settlement of riches-a coin of reddish fire-
the finches
wait for midsummer,
for the long days,for the brass heat,
for the seeds to begin to form in the hardening thistles,
dazzling as the teeth of mice,
but black,filling the face of every flower.
Then they drop from the sky.
A buttery gold,
they swing on the thistles, they gatherthe silvery down, they carry it
in their finchy beaks
to the edges of the fields,
to the trees,as though their minds were on fire
with the flower of one perfect idea-
and there they build their nests
and lay their pale-blue eggs,every year,
and every year
the hatchlings wake in the swaying branches,
in the silver baskets,and love the world.
Is it necessary to say any more?
Have you heard them singing in the wind, above the final fields?
Have you ever been so happy in your life?
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 