THE SOFT UNFOLDING OF WAVES

We have returned from three glorious weeks at the Wild Coast, feeling replenished and at peace with the world. 

 Most days were soft and meditative, filled with winter sunshine and the hushed unfolding of waves on the sand.

I learned a new word from Mo yesterday.
Apricity: The word apricity represents a simple and familiar yet a very specific phenomenon - the sun's warmth on a cold winter's day. (Click on the word to read further)

It seems appropriate to introduce the word here since, the world and his wife..... dog.....goat and cow, within a kilometer's radius, seemed to wander down to the beach to stand in the sun, .....relishing apricity on a winter's day.

I walked around this bull several times, clicking my camera and he remained  unperturbed. Just a twitch of tail and ear.

I can't imagine our holidays without the resident dogs. They add much joy and tail wagging to our days. 

The sea poems of Pablo Neruda also seem appropriate here. Follow the link if you wish to read a few more.

The Sea by Pablo Neruda

I need the sea because it teaches me.
I don't know if I learn music or awareness,
if it's a single wave or it's existence,
or only it's harsh voice or it's shining
suggestion of fishes and ships.
The fact is that until I fall asleep,
in some magnetic way I move in
the university of the waves.

It's not simply the shells crunched
as if some shivering planet
were giving signs of it's gradual death;
no, I reconstruct the day out of a fragment,
the stalactite from the silver of salt,
and the great god out of a spoonful.

What it taught me before, I keep. It's air
ceaseless wind, water and sand.

It seems a small thing for a young man,
to have come here to live with his own fire,
nevertheless, the pulse that rose
and fell in it's abyss,
the crackling of the blue cold,
the gradual wearing away of the star,
the soft unfolding of the wave
squandering snow with it's foam,
the quiet power out there, sure
as a stone shrine in the depths,
replaced my world in which were growing
stubborn sorrow, gathering oblivion,
and my life changed suddenly:
as I became part of it's movement.

Need I say, this weathered plank and broken shell returned home with me

"Among the things the sea throws up,
let us hunt for the most petrified,
violet claws of crabs,
little skulls of dead fish,
smooth syllables of wood,
small countries of mother-of-pearl;
let us look for what the sea undid
insistently, carelessly,
what it broke up and abandoned,
and left behind us."

- Forget about Me by Pablo Neruda

More chiton shells to add to my collection

Limpets doing what limpets do.

 An ox drawn sled (made out of branches) carries fire wood home

Cows in the mist

 Fish for supper.

A misty end to the day

The  SILVER SUMMER show begins tomorrow at FILLINGDON FINE ART in PIDDINGTON, UK. Details here.  I have a few pieces on the show, including the tall story panel below.

"Stop measuring days by degree of productivity and start experiencing them by degrees of presence." - Alan Watts

EVERYTHING SHINES IN THE MORNING LIGHT

An idyllic week at the wild coast

We had Long Beach to our selves every day
Not another soul to be seen

 Hours of walking, fishing  and foraging

I'm drawn to the broken shells
especially the black turbans 
which peel back to reveal spirals of rust

BREAKAGE by Mary Oliver

I go down to the edge of the sea.
How everything shines in the morning light!
The cusp of the whelk,
the broken cupboard of clam,
the opened, blue mussels,
moon snails, pale pink and scarred --
and nothing at all whole or shut, but battered, split,
dropped by the gulls onto the gray rocks and all the moisture
gone.
It's like a schoolhouse
of little words,
thousands of words.
First you figure out what each one means by itself,
the jingle, the periwinkle, the scallop
full of moonlight.

Then you begin, slowly, to read the whole story.

Our room had a little garret above it
which we named the eagle's aerie
We did a lot of holiday reading there

 I savoured Donna Watson's exquisite book
The Beauty of Nothingness

and lost myself in several novels.

"Of course reading and thinking are important but, my God, food is important too."  -  Iris Murdoch, The sea, the sea

I'LL KEEP IT SHORT .............. ISH

We have just returned from a wonderful holiday on the Wild Coast (Eastern Cape, South Africa). It is with out doubt the most stunning place I have ever been to on the coast.

This is the view that met us as we came over the rise after a tiring 8 hour trip through mist and potholes. We have spent many holidays on the Wild Coast and this is the first time we have stayed in a hotel, which meant that I didn't have to cook. Yay!

I'll try not to bore you with too many details but to set the scene, here is the view from our bungalow. Looking from our patio to the left....

straight up the river at low tide....

... and to the sea on the right.

The black horse was always waiting like a guardian angel.... horse. When I woke early in the morning or after a nap ..... there was the black horse watching me through the window. A tri-daily scratch had nothing to do with it ;-)

We rowed across the estuary every day. I took brisk 10km walks along the beach while M fished.

Most of the anglers practice "catch and release".....

... and this Lesser Sand Shark was returned unharmed to the sea.

I practiced a little "catch and release" myself with the shells I found..... though I kept the precious cowrie.

Those who've been reading my blog for a while may remember that my family regard cowries as messages from our departed loved ones and especially from my daughter who loved cowries. We scoured the beach for days and found not even a shard, but on my birthday I sent up a little prayer ... "Listen Bron, this is clearly not a cowrie beach, but just one would be nice.... ". Low and behold, a perfect pink cowrie rolled up the pristine sands with the next wave. My day was complete.

We threw left-over bait squid for the gulls and like magic hundreds of sea snails popped out of the sand and made a beeline for the bait.

Fishing in the mist .....

We often watched a pair of Crested Cranes dancing on the sand bank to the right. Definitely one of the highlights of our holiday. 200 Cranes once flocked to this beach but they have dwindled to 2 after being poisoned by treated corn. Apparently the corn is treated for beetle before planting and the cranes eat the newly planted pits. It breaks my heart.

The vintage car club leaving after spending a few days at the hotel. We quailed at the thought of these beautiful cars driving over really rough dirt roads, but they seemed to make it without much consequence.

All photos are mine except for the second one which is credited to Wavecrest Hotel.