From the bayside to being atop another Culebra hill with another view, lucky are my eyes. A cat I'm learning to know stares at me from her outdoor pillow spot, dogs at hand on either side of me, an occasional lick of a tongue on my ankle to remind me they are still here and not going anywhere...unless the breeze jingles a jangle someplace that puts them on alert and barking. Good dogs.
When you have these sweeping panoramic views, the first emotion, for me, is the feeling of stunned speechlessness. Every time, over and over, ten thousand times. So far. I can't really take it all in and usually just want to jump in a boat and get inside of it. Instead, I watch boats of every size and shape, out here near the entrance from the sea and let them take me traveling. One at a time, I sail, I speed, I fish, I dream. That's do-able, non-multi-emotional-tasking fool that I am.
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| The fleetness, lightness and clarity of the windsurfer |
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| next to still and stately solidness (until those sails go up too) |
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| Those red and green buoys are there for a reason, a reason not that hard to see from down there...if you are looking. If you're not, you can join the Capt. Sandbar Club |
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| There's the fast zoomzoom way or the slow, sailing way. I admit my prejudice for sailing but I've had a hell of a lot of fun in fast boats. At times. |
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| Red right return, c'mon in. |
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| Hard to believe that a week ago there were about 300 boats right here |
But that's how it is. Nothing stays the same. Everything changes. No, there is nothing original there, it's just a reminder. Big vast spaces do that to me; that reminder that I'm just a speck along the liferoad so I better make as big a splash as I can and so should you!
Have a splish splash Saturday. Do something sparkling.
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