Friday, June 26, 2009

in which the fish celebrates the solstice

Did you know, that during the long nights of winter
the nocturnal tides are far greater than those which occur during the day?
And the tide on the night of the Winter solstice is 
the biggest one of all.

While I sleep, the sea creeps in and takes great uncontrolled bites out of the beach
while noone can see it.
If you walk here during the day, the sea will try and pull you in, suddenly, when you aren't expecting it.

I danced my own solstice ritual at the edge of the sea
looking into the relected light with my palms above my head
acknowledging the whales passing by unseen 
in their deep speckled silence.

I thanked the sea and the sky for all the wonder in the world,
the breath in my chest, 
my two hands together,
and how lovely it is
to be able to move in complete freedom
under the sea.

Later that day,
I swam in a race, all of us flying into the winter sea
shrieking .

The sea was wily and wicked
and tossed everyone about in a wild way
and right near the edge
stole the goggles right off my head.
Just like that.
I dont care, I said, I can be blind and still swim.

Now the days are longer, just a little, 
and my son has a new friend.
My daughter tidied the whole house yesterday while I worked,
and I counted twenty days
between myself and  far away shores.
That makes me very happy.

I am thinking about all this
while having my breakfast.

Twenty short days.

as always, looking out towards the horizon.


little red hen said...

Exciting to think of far off shores! It's amazing what the sea does isn't it! I love the beach in winter!

kim at allconsuming said...

Hey! Isn't that my beach!?!

Anonymous said...

Beautiful pictures and writing. Here on the faraway shores, the cigales have woken for the summer solstice.

Mary said...

So excited for you.

And I just want to EAT those photos - so beautiful!

Leenie said...

I can hear the hiss and FOOSH of the surf. The pomegranite juice looks yummy. Which far away shores? Is the sea cold there in the winter?

Isabelle said...

Oh dear, if your days are getting longer then that means that ours are getting im-per-cept-ibly shorter. Alas (for us).

You would not - no, even you would not - want to swim in the sea in Scotland on the shortest day of winter. (Though some people do, so I suppose you might. Brrr!)

Anonymous said...

Ah, Collaroy, Collaroy...used to live there. Loved the sound of the ocean on winter nights as it drew me back to my childhood home. Did not love the other face of Collaroy - a hard world where males barrel down the local streets in boardies and thongs (and such ugly feet!). A weird but beautiful place.

fifi said...

this place is neither your place kim, nor collaroy....float a little further south. there is no main street really, but plenty of ugly feet. Much quieter than Collaroy, or kim's beach. Perhaps a little wilder in terms of swell.

If I was given the chance i would swim in Northern seas Isabelle, perhaps I might.

But I am wondering, M, what are the cigales, and why have they woken?

Leenie, it is not pomegranate juice but beetroot and orange. So pretty. And Red Hen, yes it is amazing. I still can't believe it.
Thank you all for stopping by...:-)

Regulus said...

Stunning entry and photos.

Ulrike said...

I was up north this week (Peregian, Qld), and the tide on the winter solstice ate the beach there too.

Do you suppose the tides towards the summer solstice will slowly give the beaches back?

Love your photos. I always do.

Only 20 days till far off shores. Sigh

Reluctant Blogger said...

Ah only 20 days. I can't wait.

And it is actually hot at the moment. Proper heat not English heat - it was 27 degrees today and just perfect.

And the days are so long.

I thought the drink looked nice until I heard it was beetroot! Yuck!

Anonymous said...

I thought of you today as I contemplated some very troubled surf, all travelling without direction.

Beautiful post as always.

Anonymous said...

Floated south, know where you mean - wonderful coffee abounds. Take a float over the Tassie, cross the mountains and tussock grass (my original home), land at Dunedin's St Kilda and St Clair beaches and you'll see a massive version of Collaroy's destruction. In Dunedin's case, the sea is only trying to return to its original place and to connect with the harbour. Talk of allowing the sea to do its thing and to construct canals - the Venice of the South? Och, no, not ol' Dunners.

fifi said...

oh, interesting, anonymous. And even more interesting thing is that it is to Venice I will be floating.
I thought only ugly nasty destructive things happened in Australia, not NZ. And Sydney the capital of ugly creations.

RB you will be drinking beetroot juice if I have my way especially in the heat.

rhubaby, today i was cold, and I swam very decisively indeed you will be pleased to know but it is nice that you would think of me.

Ulrike, I think they wiilll come back. Perhaps not quite in the same spot though. Beaches tend to travel north round here, and come back for summer.

meggie said...

Some rellies built too close to the ocean front. The tides stole their frontage. Served them right for trying to 'steal' from the sea.
Lovely post!

Anonymous said...

Enjoy Venice. I used to have a recurring dream about Venice - I was driving a red car!! Didn't land in the drink, though the dream suddenly stopped visiting me when I was flying back to London from Crete (wonderful place), and we landed at Venice to refuel (a strike in the UK). Very odd, but wonderful.

lmrb aka 'anonymous'

Alice said...

Such wonderful photos of the sea and the shore nearly had me going to the bathroom to wash off the sand and

Have a fantastic overseas trip.

Spruce Hill said...

I have been away for a while! glad to be back! Your pix look a lot like my beach pix! Thought about you a bunch whe we were at the beach!

Are you on facebook? I saw on a friends list and thought it was you!