Thursday, July 31, 2008
31 July 2008. Gray morning, touch of wind. Return from the north coast--this from Tuesday:
Mist over the headlands at Stillwater Cove, early morning, cliffs veiled, revealed, veiled again. Gull on dark waters, white, an act of God--or man--sound of crow from high above, in the pines on the hill. Lapping, glistening, smooth--only the beginnings of a breeze. Black wings arc through the mist, feathers spread wide at the ends as he turns in flight. Bull kelp--knotty gold-brown bulbous protuberances massed across the inlet--that particular smell--ocean's edge. Continent's even. A single winding silver path opens to the sea...