Love is most nearly itself
When here and now cease to matter.
Old men ought to be explorers
Here or there does not matter
We must be still and still moving
Into another intensity
For a further union, a deeper communion
Through the dark cold and the empty desolation,
The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters
Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning.

(Yes I am still on my poetry binge, though I’m transitioning from TS Eliot to Wallace Stevens. It’s so dang nice to pick up old friends and get re-acquainted…and maybe even go back to writing some myself, though it’s been a long, long time…)

Last Friday our skies were cloudy, warm and interesting, prompting a trip to the beach at sunset with the camera and tripod.

The sunset itself was magnificent. It was high tide and the surf was high, too, forcing more than one scramble up on the rocks to save me and the equipment from being soaked. But just after sunset, around the time this was taken, there was a moment where I felt like I’d been invited into a scene unlike any other.

After the sun dropped below the horizon, it reflected a blaze of color on the ocean to the west for another full hour. As I watched the lightplay, I saw a school of dolphins out in the distance, and when I looked away from the light to the other side of the beach, three sea lions were close by, near enough that if I had wanted, I could have taken a few steps into the water and touched them. Two flocks of pelicans skimmed the water close to the dolphins, looking for a few fish to top off the day’s catch.

Capturing moments like that with a camera prove elusive. Shutter speeds are too slow to catch dolphins and sea lions with clarity. But in my mind’s eye they’re there, real, alive, and for one short time, celebrating the end of a day well lived.

The rest of this summer’s ocean series (mostly used to protest offshore drilling initiatives), can be found here.

The parent looks a tiny bit frazzled and hassled. That may be because these children are no longer little chirping chicks; they’re full-fledged teenagers nearly as big as she, and they expect to be fed regularly.

Of course, we couldn’t relate to that, now could we?

According to DG, they are Keeva, Kara and Kylie. She says that since they were all given boy names last year, it’s only fair that they be given girl names this year. Here they are bickering. It seems that sibling rivalry is universal, whether between herons or humans.

Me too. But I got some fun ones this weekend. It’s soooo hot outside and until about an hour ago, the breeze was nowhere to be found, which means that great water droplet shots can be had with enough patience and hydration.

The herons were really late nesting and hatching this year, but I have some fun ones to share now. Finally. There are three chicks this year, and they’re just starting to stretch their wings. One is older than the other two (not unusual) and in this photo, they’ve just been fed and are fighting. The fun starts when they start flapping. They flap their wings until they finally get them coordinated, then stretch up their legs and flap and flap and FLAP. And then….nothing. Somewhat deflated, they retire to the nest for the next meal and flap session.