As I was saying, It was an amazing minus tide late Friday afternoon in Santa Barbara, coinciding with (or because of?) the Super Moon. I forgot my camera, but my sister had her phone and all its very cool, super smart apps. The wind was up, so we couldn’t stay long—T still has a lingering cough—but we enjoyed what we got.
Whether she’s wild or crazed or placid to the eyes, the ocean never ceases to inspire me with her colors and moods and artsy puzzles when she gathers up her skirts and takes a break from old beach. To see my son delight in tide pools? I mean—I hoped he would at least like the ocean and visiting the beach, but that he would squeal and yell I SEE ONE, MAMA, I SEE A HERMIT CWAB and get so excited by anemones and mussels and barnacles—perhaps we share an “ocean” gene. That for his bedtime stories he reaches for books ocean-related? That he can say Architeuthis Dux (archisus ducks) and know that it’s a giant squid, that he can point out a weedy sea dragon (dwagon) or anglerfish—okay, yes I buy him these books, but he also requests them in addition to and usually more than his Dr. Seuss collection and Brown Bear, Brown Bear and Quick As A Cricket. He likes his ocean books. They interest him. And—I admit it—this thrills his mama no end. Following him as he raced from tide pool to pool, sharing his excitement when he discovered sea-bits, traipsing around the living museum of beach, wind blasting our cheeks, ocean air filling our lungs—bliss.