I feel quiet walking in the woods or on the beach. There is a path through the woods two blocks from me. It is only one block long. But my heart immediately quiets when I go there, even for just that block. Last time I walked though it, a young wild rabbit froze to hide. He was right by the path and perfectly visible. I stopped and waited a little and then walked forward. He panicked when I got close and dived for the briars.
My yard quiets my heart: trees and flowers. (Except when I notice that I should mow again.) The sky, the clouds, the stars all quiet me.
Yesterday a friend asks, “Do you think life is hard?”
“Yes,” I say, “I think it’s often hard but beautiful too.”
The photograph is from Deception Pass, about a month ago. Moss and rocks quiet my heart too.
At Deception Pass, I hike and come to these rocks. This looks like a spinal column to me and ribs to each side, the bones of the passage, the bones of the earth. Or like the back of a sea lion as it breaks the water. This is no timid small mammal and I step lightly and carefully across, hoping not to disturb or awaken it.
These are just rocks, right? We heard the birds in the rocks before we saw them: black oystercatchers. They make a wonderful queep call and we stopped to look for them right away. They are very quick searching the rocks. This is taken with a zoom lens and I didn’t want to go closer and disturb them.