Down to the sea in rivulets

The new moon, dear Sue reminds me, is the best time to plant seeds. It is the time for beginnings, for making wishes, for starting new work. It is one of the times the earth shows most clearly the power of its small satellite at work, for the risings and fallings of the tides are consistent, powerful and unmistakable. This evening Rodney and I were able to go to the beach for a couple of hours. Here it is, devoid of people, and infused with the subtle, sweet light of sunset, almost pink, almost golden. The river of light bisecting the image is the flow of water from what we call a slew (it makes sense, if you borrow its meaning from electronics or navigation), one of those long, temporary channels of water running parallel to the seashore, created by tidal water. In this case, the shifting tide resulted in pools perhaps 2 or 3 feet deep, heart-stoppingly clear and this evening reflecting the almost pink, almost golden glamorous sky. I thought you should see it. Honestly, I thought you'd love it.


More prosaically here's a photo of supper, minus the salad. This is a shameless ploy, designed to remind Mac of how good the food is at home, how much we miss him, how much he's supposed to miss us...well, you get the idea. It becomes increasingly clear as your kids approach adulthood that you are not as central to their lives as they are to yours. In my case this means there are no tricks at my command to which I won't stoop and since mine are generally with wonderful, albeit very ordinary, food, you generous readers are doomed to share them.

Less prosaically our Mac is serving in the Navy and volunteered for submarine duty. I'm not sure, but I bet their mashed potatoes don't measure up to ours. Nevertheless I'm equally sure that he will be pulled down to the sea in too many ways for me to count. And so will Dylan, come to that, following his own very different streams and rivers. With luck and many blessings, Rodney and I will be able to count upon the influence of a small, orbiting satellite to exercise small, blessedly predictable influences to and from the sea.