I'm always fascinated by the intricacies of the exposed root systems. Yes, my dear, your roots are showing, and beautifully so!
Sometimes trees grow right over their defunct confreres (not to be confused with conifers). I don't think it's arboreal cannibalism; more like symbiosis.
Occasionally, trees get very tired of standing about and just have to sit down.
When I walk past this point I always feel like I'm passing through a magic portal.
This portal leads down to the rocky beach. This set of stairs is a new one that I was surprised to see. The others are far more discreet and steep but these are the first set and good to nip down for a quick peek at what's going on.
Often there's a freighter waiting in the inlet. This is the same one that I showed you from my bedroom window on my first day here. Others have come and gone, but this one is still there. My mother and I often ponder why it's staying so long.
This park and beach have been a sort of spiritual sanctuary or refuge for me ever since my family moved here. In troubled times it soothed me. In happy days it complemented my joy. It's damp and lush and redolent with the scent of cedar.
The year my father died, I came to the beach before his funeral and picked up a small black stone and put it in my pocket to bring some sort of solace with me, a touchstone, to the service. As I sat and watched the water and gathered my emotions into a tidy knot, a heron flew down onto a nearby rock and watched and waited with me. I took it as a sign from my father, just because I needed to. I keep that small stone on my bedside table at "my other home."
That year I made a talisman to represent this special place so I could take a bit of it with me when I went back to the east coast. I'll put a picture of it and tell how she came about at my Ragzedge blog.
Postcards from the Edge.