A couple of days ago I posted a series of photos of the wind-driven waves splashing against the breakwall at my back yard, and ended with a shot of water that was pooling in my neighbor's yard two doors down. Then yesterday, the fellow who does breakwall maintenance showed up with his tug and barge, and a load of big rocks (aka armor stone). As I watched out the window, the barge turned and headed very close to my place, so I grabbed my camera and headed out. I was shocked to see my neighbors' yard with a large, deep hole in it! Even worse for them, the strong metal barrier had buckled in at the top, and then flared out at the bottom as easily, it would seem, as a curtain hem billows out a raised window.
Armor stones can shift and some even sink with time, but whatever may have been in front of my neighbors' place in the past, there were no stones to prevent the buckling and the washing away of his yard when the recent winds and high water came. I don't know if there's any way they can restore the wall without making it worse; the rocks they added yesterday may be all that can be done to prevent further erosion. And then they're going to have to fill that hole with something.
It got me thinking about the power of water. Together with the wind, it bent and buckled that section of thick metal breakwall like it was nothing. At my place, it's obvious some of the previous owners have added to the pile of armor stone over decades. It may not be the prettiest bit of shoreline from certain angles, but I'm awfully glad it's there!
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.