Saturday, September 7, 2013

Beautiful Day at the Ocean

I had a beautiful day at the ocean today. I took myself to Capitola. I read recently that there are negative ions in the air around ocean waves, waterfalls, and rivers which, contrarily, make you feel refreshed and happier. No wonder I like it at those places! When I go to the ocean it makes me feel like it's "blowing the cobwebs" from my brain. And I've always liked staying by rivers. I thought it was the sound of water that I liked so much, which I do, but I bet those negative ions are having an effect, too.

There were more birds there this morning than I've ever seen. I wonder what attracted them. I had especially not seen so many pelicans in close proximity like that.

This looked like a pelican family to me.

I'm reading a book by Jane Goodall with a bunch of stories about groups of people trying to save different animals from extinction. One of the stories was about California condors and she talked about how at first she thought they were so unattractive, but she saw their beauty when they spread their huge wings and flew. I thought of that when I was watching the pelicans.

It was fun sitting on the pier and hearing the kids who were playing close in. Most of them had little boards and were trying to catch waves. Their squeals and screams and chatter were good to hear.

I sat and read -- re-read -- a British mystery, Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club. A Lord Peter Wimsey book by the ocean. Very pleasant.

At one point the fog came in very quickly. It receded quickly soon after. I kept thinking of a line of a poem about fog coming in "on little cat feet." My mom put that poem up on our frig once. I seem to remember she put several poems up for a while, to try to make them familiar to us. What a good mom.

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on. 

Carl Sandburg


  1. From the opening paragraph of Moby Dick:

    Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off—then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.

  2. I've just been re-reading Gaudy Night and Busman's Honeymoon. Must be something in the air creating a Peter Wimsey craving.

  3. Thanks, Jan. What a good sister, too.