I rode yet again to the coast yesterday. The draw of the ocean is just too much for me to deny. Each time I visit the shore I see new things.
Yesterday, for example, I happened upon a quite large Monarch Butterfly that had lit for awhile on a lovely potted flowering plant in the afternoon sun. A soft breeze blew in from the Southwest. (It was is known as an Off-Shore breeze, resulting on calm days in smooth seas and small glass-like waves coming in one after another.)
I listened to The Long Riders singing one of my favorite songs, “And She Rides.” I spoke softly to the butterfly, whispering to it that it really needed to head further south soon. “Winter is coming my friend,” I advised my winged visitor, “and it’s time to follow your heart south.” I quickly snapped a photo of the marvel with my camera phone.
This is the second day in a row that I have suddenly come upon a Monarch. They are actually rather rare here this time of year, as most of them departed weeks ago for warmer climes. Most interesting is that each time I came upon one of these lovely creatures I had just been thinking of a Butterfly I happened upon and befriended (as in helped it from a certain demise in a roadway) this summer. The notion that you can think of someone or something and then have an instant connection like that is stunningly amazing; yet it is happening more frequently lately.
The road along the coast is twisty and smooth. Rocky shores fall off to the sea. Tiny cottages and inns dot the mainland side, separated now and then by a stretch of truly magnificent mansions with Roman columns and sweeping vast gardens.
The world has many fantabulous places to visit; few, however, compare to the seashore. When the snows fly, and the motorcycle is long put away, I will return to this coast. It is even lovelier, in a furious and wild way, in winter. In winter, with storms raging far out at sea, each crashing wave tells a story that began far away and long ago.
It’s as if nature were telling us a bedtime story that begins …… “A long, long time ago, in a far away place…..”
Yesterday, for example, I happened upon a quite large Monarch Butterfly that had lit for awhile on a lovely potted flowering plant in the afternoon sun. A soft breeze blew in from the Southwest. (It was is known as an Off-Shore breeze, resulting on calm days in smooth seas and small glass-like waves coming in one after another.)
I listened to The Long Riders singing one of my favorite songs, “And She Rides.” I spoke softly to the butterfly, whispering to it that it really needed to head further south soon. “Winter is coming my friend,” I advised my winged visitor, “and it’s time to follow your heart south.” I quickly snapped a photo of the marvel with my camera phone.
This is the second day in a row that I have suddenly come upon a Monarch. They are actually rather rare here this time of year, as most of them departed weeks ago for warmer climes. Most interesting is that each time I came upon one of these lovely creatures I had just been thinking of a Butterfly I happened upon and befriended (as in helped it from a certain demise in a roadway) this summer. The notion that you can think of someone or something and then have an instant connection like that is stunningly amazing; yet it is happening more frequently lately.
The road along the coast is twisty and smooth. Rocky shores fall off to the sea. Tiny cottages and inns dot the mainland side, separated now and then by a stretch of truly magnificent mansions with Roman columns and sweeping vast gardens.
The world has many fantabulous places to visit; few, however, compare to the seashore. When the snows fly, and the motorcycle is long put away, I will return to this coast. It is even lovelier, in a furious and wild way, in winter. In winter, with storms raging far out at sea, each crashing wave tells a story that began far away and long ago.
It’s as if nature were telling us a bedtime story that begins …… “A long, long time ago, in a far away place…..”
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment