I woke up this morning to a glorious blood-red sky.
It was about 6:30 or so, and I realized what day it was.
This was about the same time, twenty-two years ago, that I had taken my first sip of coffee and turned on the news to learn that the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center had been crashed into by hijacked jets.
I woke up my son and while we huddled together watching TV, there were other reported terrorist attacks on the Pentagon and a crash in Pennsylvania.
The September 11 attacks of 2001 caused the deaths of nearly 3000 victims and nineteen hijackers. Thousands more were injured and long-term health effects have arisen as a consequence of the attacks.
This sky is a poignant reminder of that tragic day.
William James Collins is an American poet who served as the Poet Laureate of the United States from 2001 to 2003.
The Names is his poem about 9/11.
Yesterday, I lay awake in the palm of the night. A soft rain stole in, unhelped by any breeze, And when I saw the silver glaze on the windows, I started with A, with Ackerman, as it happened, Then Baxter and Calabro, Davis and Eberling, names falling into place As droplets fell through the dark. Names printed on the ceiling of the night. Names slipping around a watery bend. Twenty-six willows on the banks of a stream. In the morning, I walked out barefoot Among thousands of flowers Heavy with dew like the eyes of tears, And each had a name -- Fiori inscribed on a yellow petal Then Gonzalez and Han, Ishikawa and Jenkins. Names written in the air And stitched into the cloth of the day. A name under a photograph taped to a mailbox. Monogram on a torn shirt, I see you spelled out on storefront windows And on the bright unfurled awnings of this city. I say the syllables as I turn a corner -- Kelly and Lee, Medina, Nardella, and O'Connor. When I peer into the woods, I see a thick tangle where letters are hidden As in a puzzle concocted for children. Parker and Quigley in the twigs of an ash, Rizzo, Schubert, Torres, and Upton, Secrets in the boughs of an ancient maple. Names written in the pale sky. Names rising in the updraft amid buildings. Names silent in stone Or cried out behind a door. Names blown over the earth and out to sea. In the evening -- weakening light, the last swallows. A boy on a lake lifts his oars. A woman by a window puts a match to a candle, And the names are outlined on the rose clouds -- Vanacore and Wallace, (let X stand, if it can, for the ones unfound) Then Young and Ziminsky, the final jolt of Z. Names etched on the head of a pin. One name spanning a bridge, another undergoing a tunnel. A blue name needled into the skin. Names of citizens, workers, mothers and fathers, The bright-eyed daughter, the quick son. Alphabet of names in a green field. Names in the small tracks of birds. Names lifted from a hat Or balanced on the tip of the tongue. Names wheeled into the dim warehouse of memory. So many names, there is barely room on the walls of the heart. -- Billy Collins
Full of #gratitude and being #grateful with a poem by one of my favorites, Becky Hemsley, to help dispel any lingering Saturday blues and also because it’s too hot to stay outside.
Photo of Big Sur by Enchanted Seashells
When the ocean waves engulf you And there’s water all around And when you feel you’re in so deep You might as well swim down When the forest’s looming darkly And you can’t see your way through When the trees are overbearing And they’re closing in on you When every path is dangerous And treacherous to tread And you decide to stop And stay forever lost instead
Well…
I hope the sea is sapphires That buoy you with their blue I hope they shine a little Of their precious light on you I hope the forest prides itself On all its emerald leaves And helps you see your brilliance Through the darkness of the trees I hope your paths are gilded And are lined with golden hues Where ruby roses grow through grass That shines with diamond dew I hope you feel the sunshine And the warmth that it possesses I hope you see the way the clouds Are shining at their edges ‘Cause there’s richness in the darkness, When you’re lost, beneath the surface There’s treasure waiting for you And I promise you it’s worth it So don’t give up or in ‘Cause pressure builds a precious stone You’ve everything you need And you are stronger than you know So please keep going up and through Keep walking, swimming, climbing And keep on searching clouds for silver Sewn into their linings —Becky Hemsley
I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
--RL Stevenson
This haunting photo of the ocean is a total mystery. I don’t remember where or when I snapped it, but it’s intense.
I can certainly relate. I’m working on the shadowy crevices between total darkness and the love and positivity that shines a light into the murky gloom.
Embrace and make peace with our shadow with a lot of love and self compassion.
Near the front door, the last bits of Hurricane Hilary left behind a heart. It was a sweet and positive message to start the day and I hurried to snap a pic before it completely dried up.
I’ve been getting calls and texts from the insurance company about filing claims about (future) storm damage, SDGE is calling and texting alerts about storm preparations and being ready for the power to go out, so I guess Hurricane Hilary is SERIOUS about visiting my little beachy town.
An emergency preparedness spokesperson said that we should not underestimate the impact of this storm, and called it possibly “the worst we’ve seen”.
If his prediction is correct, this beautiful sunset is going to be replaced by lots of sky water and high winds.
It’s supposed to start raining in the afternoon, so I better focus on removing a few more windchimes before the real action kicks off on Sunday.
Looking west from the deck, the vibrant sunset is reminiscent of my favorite passionfruit and mango shave ice.
Rain might actually fall in a couple of days from Tropical Storm Hilary, the reason for those beautiful clouds. A new weather forecast says it might turn into a hurricane which would definitely bring stronger winds along with sky water. We would only feel the remnants–Baja California would bear the brunt–but I’d be really happy for the rain!
The new moon, under 1% illuminated, turns skies dark tonight as we anticipate the second full moon at the end of August.
This little Jewish girl from Detroit dancing around in a pink tutu and satin toe shoes harbored a secret desire to live among the wolves and become accepted as a pack member.
Crazy, right?
Crazy because the only wolves I encountered in Detroit were the hormone-addled little boys at the Jewish Community Center.
“The gaze of the wolf reached into our soul.” Barry Lopez
It wasn’t until we moved to California and I was in college that I did anything about it.
Back in the 1970s, I joined the fight to save the wolf from extinction by advocating for protection under the Endangered Species Act (ESA),
In college, I studied predators and made plans to accompany research scientists and live with wolves in Minnesota and Michigan but never fulfilled that dream because I couldn’t (obviously) bring my dog, and I didn’t want to leave her.
Another dream unfulfilled. Oh, well.
Wolf print, Yellowstone
I was lucky to finally get to Yellowstone National Park and see IRL several of the wolves who make up the Lamar Valley pack, but never heard the song of the wolf, probably because we camped right on Slough Creek and the water, while beautiful, drowned out most animal sounds.
I’m still involved in the never-ending fight to save, defend, and protect this magnificent animal; read about my experiences in Sacramento when I testified at the Fish and Wildlife Service‘s wolf delisting hearing: Saving Wolves.
From my testimony: “At 6:00 a.m., a few miles outside our camp at Slough Creek, we followed others to a bison carcass, and our efforts paid off with a multiple sighting of many wolves, including 755. There was an overwhelming sense of awe among the dozens of us who silently watched him cross the road and then a collective sigh of relief when he disappeared safely over the ridge.
I recently took a drive to the Mojave Desert town of Lucerne to spend a few hours at Wolf Mountain Sanctuary, a 501c3 nonprofit organization founded in 1976 by Tonya Littlewolf.
Many wolves call this sanctuary home, and while I finally heard the haunting song of the wolf, the whole experience could only be described as sad.
Why sad?
Sad because these magnificent creatures NEED to be rescued.
Sad that humans think they have the right to try and make pets out of these wild animals. (Not gonna work.)
Sad that the wolves can’t roam free, sad they’re hunted, tortured, hated, vilified.
Wolves are among the most intelligent species.
HOW DARE WE DESTROY THEM.
Wolf Mountain Sanctuary
So yes. Sad. Very sad.
From Wolf Mountain Sanctuary website…all volunteer educational organization dedicated to the preservation, protection, and proper management of wolves in the wild and in captivity. We are a forever home for all of the wolves we rescue. We rescue wolves from the movie industry, private owners, and from breeders. The impression a 180 pound wolf leaves on you is everlasting. To look into their knowing, wise, amber colored eyes is a moving, spiritual experience. When you look into the eyes of a wolf, you see your soul…
“We have doomed the Wolf not for what it is, but for what we have deliberately and mistakenly perceived it to be..the mythologized epitome of a savage, ruthless killer..which is, in reality no more than a reflexed images of ourself.” Farley Mowat
Wolf Mountain Sanctuary
Denali (Deh-Nah-Lee) (“Great One” or “Highest Mountain”) was one of two pups born in the wilds of Alaska. He was rescued from the wolf-killing that was taking place in that state, both by private citizens and government agencies.
He’s a beautiful wolf with a golden sand coat. Denali’s personality is very sweet, curious, and friendly.
The wolves at Wolf Mountain Sanctuary seem to be well cared for and healthy.
When I met this handsome guy, Holan, he immediately jumped up, put his front paws on my shoulders, and licked my face. See my joy? This is the smile of someone who loves wolves.
Wolf Mountain Sanctuary
“The wolf is neither man’s competitor nor his enemy. He is a fellow creature with whom the earth must be shared.” L. David Mech
Look at him. The eyes. Amazing.
Wolf Mountain Sanctuary
Wolf Mountain Sanctuary
“Throughout the centuries we have projected on to the wolf the qualities we most despise and fear in ourselves.” Barry Lopez
Wolf Mountain Sanctuary
“Inescapably, the realization was being borne in upon my preconditioned mind that the centuries-old and universally accepted human concept of wolf character was a palpable lie. On three separate occasions in less than a week I had been completely at the mercy of these “savage killers”; but far from attempting to tear me limb from limb, they had displayed a restraint verging on contempt, even when I invaded their home and appeared to be posing a direct threat to the young pups.” Farley Mowat, Never Cry Wolf
WHY SAVE THE WOLF? Look at them: they are so noble, so beautiful. The wolf, as well as other endangered species, are ecological indicators. It is by studying these species and learning how to preserve them that we learn the main factors affecting our environment.
Perhaps in so doing, we will learn undiscovered ways to benefit mankind!
Unfortunately, there are those who deny the wolf’s place in the ecosystem. Wolves are gunned down from airplanes and snowmobiles (which some consider “sport”). Sometimes the fur is taken; however, more often than not, the animal is simply left to decay.
The wolf is poisoned “en masse,” trapped by leg-hold traps, used as adornments for the idle rich.
Today, the wolf’s range is limited to Alaska, Canada, the upper Midwest, and in Yellowstone National Park. Some of the YNP wolves have traveled into adjoining states, which allow hunters to kill wolves on sight and for little to no reason. In the 1930’s, there were approximately 50,000 wolves roaming the North American continent. By the 1940’s, that number had been decreased to 1,000. Today, mostly because of conservation efforts, there are approximately 3,000 wild wolves on the entire continent. They have made a small comeback, but because of the recent delisted from the Endangered Species Act, wolves are once again under attack.
Wolf lovers need to band together and do all we can to help them. TIME IS RUNNING OUT!
Only you can save the wolf from extinction. Proper management procedures must be put into action.
It looks to me like they’re just lazily going around and around in directionless circles on Puget Sound/Salish Sea in Seattle, but I guess there’s a purpose to it…
The Italian word regatta means “contention for mastery” and comes from the Latin word regattare, or “to compete, haggle, sell at retail.” Regatta came to specifically mean “boat race” — and the many social events related to it — in the late 1700s.
Off in the distance, it looks like there’s a container ship, but sadly, no whales…
Whatever it means, and whatever they’re doing, it makes for pretty photos, credit to my son, high above the marina on Shilshole Bay. The clouds over the snowless Olympic mountain range create a magnificent backdrop.
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 