Today it's raining steadily, but I have in my hand the first few pieces of beachglass I collected this season, found on a sunny afternoon at the little beach just down the road from my house - a couple of bits of old stoneware, a tiny piece of an old patternware plate; a bright green chip with a hint of a ridge (I think it might be from a vintage 7-Up bottle), and a nameless piece of clear glass, turned yellow by the action of the sun's UV rays on its chemical composition.
A trip to the big beach near the ferry dock almost always yields more spectacular finds, like old medicine bottle stoppers from the turn of the century before last, and interesting blobs of "bonfire" glass - bottles and other glass items melted in a trash fire, then dumped in the lake, and left to roll around for decades til they're frosted and ready to be storm-tossed onto the beach to lie like uncut gems in the sand - but any walk on a beach is a good one. I put beachcombing in the same category as birdwatching. A leisurely obsession that takes you for a wonderful walk outdoors, with often the reward of seeing something new and amazing to identify.
Here's a favorite poem I copied into my notebook from an issue of New Yorker magazine, sometime in the 70s I think it was - I didn't save the issue. It's like a piece of beachglass itself, a small treasure I've carried with me for decades. Now that we have the Internet, I've tried several times to find out more about the poet, but so far nothing has turned up. If anybody knows anything about her, I'd love to find out more, read more.
Tonight when we're back in another land We shall not empty our shoes of sand We shan't untangle sea-snarled hair Nor rinse our souls of salty air
The Cloud Messenger (Meghadūta) is a lyric poem by the respected Indian poet, Kālidāsa. The poem centers around a yaksa in exile. Longing for his beloved, waiting for him on a Himalayan mountain, he asks a cloud to take a message to her. The sights he tells the cloud it will see on its way make up most of the poem.
The idea of recording observations appeals to me. I thought The Cloud Messenger was the perfect title for a blog about the journey that we all make as we move through our days.
I'm a baby boomer who grew up dancing in the streets of Detroit during the classic Motown years, lived beside the Rocky Mountains for many years, now retired and living (and writing full time) in S. Ontario. I have one blog for rock 'n' roll oldies, and one for nature, poetry and life along the Lake.