My little
house is on the Bay side of Galveston Island but the Gulf of Mexico is just two
long blocks away. Its waters’ motion always provides a background noise that
becomes a part of the hearer’s subconscious, so integrated into every moment as
to be unnoticed.
Normally
the Gulf is rather tame. The difference between high tide and low tide is
negligible and the waves are barely big enough for boogie-boarding. Today is
different, though. The Gulf waters are aroar, almost like the noise of a nearby
freeway at rush hour. The waves
wouldn’t support surfboards, I think, but for the Gulf they are impressive.
No
pelicans cruised for fish dinners. No sanderlings pecked in the sand for food
as each wave receded. Silent gulls kept watch from pilings but didn’t fly. The surf piles seaweed all along the shore.
A warning
is out for sea fog tonight and tomorrow morning, advising sailors that
visibility will be less than one mile. Already the fog is gathering. The air is
laden with moisture.
How long
must one live in a place to begin to grasp the meaning of events like these? As
an occasional visitor to the Island, I will never know this place as I know and
understand our rural acres in Kansas, where I have lived for 37 years. Here, I
can only observe, marvel and wonder.
Copyright
2013 by Shirley Domer
1 comment:
There was pea-soup fog in Salina when I woke up yesterday! It burned off around 11, though, and the day promised to be warm, windy, but sunny!
Here in Colorado Springs, it is 26 with snow! How I love the moisture!
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