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Monday, August 17, 2015

Church of the Jetty - 2015

When we drove home from a family party in the middle of a thunderstorm Saturday night, it didn’t occur to me that Sunday would be a “Church of the Jetty” day, but it should have. Lightning flickered purple over the highway, thunder bashed overhead, and window-wipers flogging back and forth struggled to keep up.  But when I woke at 6:30 in the morning, it was clear as the blue sky outside my window that the storm had cleaned things out.  An hour later, after brewing coffee, we stopped for bagels and headed to the harbor.  As we tiptoed by, the same way it happens each time we do this, the summer church service taking place on the porch of the new sailing club began.  Down at the docks I sang along with the first hymn.   
I wish I knew the words to tell you how open and bright a clear a summer morning can be on the low-tide harbor.  Everything is white and vivid and sweeping, almost as if the world has grown larger.  As if the light has moved inside you.  We anchored on the flats and pulled up the boat.  Egrets and seagulls picked through the mud as my husband scrubbed off the slime that accumulates on the sides of the dinghy.  Toward the east, the water sparkled.  The sun glinted off a tilted panel out on Minot’s light.  Rowing crews parted the sea, leaving a V’s in their wake and a couple slogged through the low water, dragging their boat behind.  One lone fisherman took a last sideways cast, before pulling up anchor and trundling away.

In the end, we didn’t walk the jetty.  We stood below it, circling, flipping over shells bleached white by the sun, watching the gulls and the terns, listening to the gurgle as the tide rolled in over the sand.  But through it all, the jetty was there, hulking behind us, an altar of sorts, blessing our morning while standing guard over a perfect view.

I'm going to be off blogger until after Labor Day.  Wishing you all a glorious end to summer.

Monday, August 10, 2015

Birds of a Feather

I was going for  a picture of the hummingbird...

But then these guys showed up.  Anyone know what they are?   

I took the photos through a window, so they're not the best. But this is less about the photos and more about the lesson.  I spend a lot of time watching for hummingbirds, and don't usually pay that much attention to what else is out there.  Perhaps I need to broaden my horizons. 

Wishing you all a week filled with bright surprises.

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

To be, or Wanna be - That is the Question.

 This is my August contribution to Alex Cavanaugh's Insecure Writer's Support Group, a blog hop all about writers helping writers.  To read more posts, click here.

When I started this blog six years ago, the goal was to hold myself accountable to writing regularly.  It was an easy objective really, because I was recently (and traumatically) unemployed and had the time, as well as a whole lot of emotion needing release.  A personal essay five days a week turned out to be the way to heal myself.  Over the years, writing took on another spin as I set my goal to completing a novel, then another, and one more.  I have yet to get one published, but I wrote them, and that’s a lot more than I thought I could do, pre-Middle Passages.  

I took another job, then a different one after that.  Now I work regular hours and write too.  At this point, I’m a third of the way through my fourth novel and stuck…mostly due to life circumstances, and because there is research I need to complete.  But, after all this time, I also understand there is a rhythm to my work, and the right pace for me includes a summer slowdown.  When September arrives, I gear up, which will happen again, I know.  But for now, while I pause on this novel, I’m holding myself to blogging once a week.  Sometimes, it feels like homework.  Oh, God, I have to write another blog post?  But in truth, blogging has saved my writing so many times.  When I get stuck, there’s Middle Passages, reminding me. If I choose, I can turn into one more wanna be writer. 
Or, I can write.  

Monday, August 3, 2015


It is a picture post Monday...while I try to find words for IWSG Wednesday.  I'm still trying to work out the settings on the new camera...but you'll get the gist.  Every once in a while, an unexpected day arrives along with an unplanned opportunity, one during which, I inhale and say, "I am SO blessed.  This was one.  A trip to the Cape.  I packed a bag and hopped into the car less than thirty minutes after the invitation was issued. No agenda.  Just the camera, and going with the flow.

Seals and seagulls waiting for the fishermen to arrive. 

An Osprey.  Also known as a fish eagle, sea hawk, river hawk, or fish hawk.  My first.
Kite surfing on Cape Cod Bay.  I've heard of it, but never seen it.
Kite surfing at Monomoy National Wildlife Preserve.  Believe it or not...the picture doesn't do it justice.

And then there's the picture I didn't get.  On our way home, rounding a curve on the entrance to the highway.  A full moon rising orange in front of us, and a firework chrysanthemum, exploding blue and purple beside it.  Oh, my!  In my last post, I wrote about life being in the details. 

That was another one.