Archive of ‘beach’ category

The hands holding my heart.

It was a beautiful day here. The kind of day that makes the East Coast jealous 😉. Blue sky. A freshness in the air, a hint of spring at the corners of flower beds. Summer is a sweet far thing.

Looking forward while reflecting back.

As the sun sets, I’m sitting on Willows beach. I’m mildly freezing but it’s worth it to see the sky fade from brightest blue to faint pastels, a hint of pink and orange touching the edges of the clouds that cling close to the land. I’m grateful it’s such a beautiful day. It makes everything better.We spent the afternoon at the hospital. My dad sleeps almost all the time. He isn’t in pain. That’s exactly what he wanted. We asked he be taken off the medications they were giving him, to turn off his pacemaker, and let him be. No subject has ever been taboo, and I’m grateful to have been able to discuss birth, death and miracles in between with my family, and mum and I are deeply respectful of those  wishes.  I want him to be at peace, with just his breath and heartbeat, and feeling the love, us at his side until the end of this wild journey that we had the privilege of sharing.
I feel like there are tight hands around my heart. A tight fist of panic and grief. It feels as though I can scarcely breathe. I worry what it will mean when the hands release, with a final sigh of breathe. The sound and smell of the ocean calmed me. Steady waves gently rolling in to cover the bare beach. I can control them no more than my fathers breaths, but I can observe and cherish each. Footprints track through the rocky beach, but the birds seem few, and the last dogs and people turn in. A part of me wants to lean closer to the waves, to listen to what they whisper, for them to wash over me and wash away this feeling. But this feeling is a reflection of a life lived with love. It is a beautiful reminder of how deeply we as humans are able to feel.


I love the ocean.

I brought my dad a bouquet of flowers from the home garden. It’s a wild space, and beautiful for it. Lavender, Rosemary flowers, dandelions, heather, delicate weeds I have no name for. Dad loves to see my face light up when he gives me flowers, and it brought my heart solace to do the same for him, even if he sees them only in dreams, or catches a whif of Rosemary.

Thank you all so much for your beautiful words. It means the world to my mum and I. I’m so blessed to have been born to the parents I have, and feel such gratitude that they know my love, and see the joy they bring to my infinite moments. 💜

All that the tide brings…


Last night, instead of going to bed with cold-to-the-touch-numb-to-me feet, they were a shockingly normal color. We have taken pictures of my feet when they are a purple-bluish or red color, which usually doesn’t show up in a photo well. My feet started turning strange colors when I first became ill with bronchitis/pneumonia in 2008, at the very beginning of my serious Lyme illness. There was some talk about Renaud’s syndrome, but my feet weren’t turning colors in the right order, so that was quickly ruled out. My hands and feet were always cold, but now, just 2 days after the CCSVI procedure, with unblocked veins, the warmth and feeling are returning to my limbs. It is kind of exciting…I hadn’t realize I had lost so much sensation in my limbs, if not all of the feeling in my legs. Maybe sooner it will be easier to walk. Who can say…?

It is going to be a brilliant full moon tonight. The tide is very high. Most people have seen scientists projections of what the future water-levels will look like. Its not very promising for shore-dwellers, and the major cities set by the sea. At around 5 o’clock, at the busy Aliso Beach, 20 minutes from where we were staying, the waves were coming in so fast and furious that picnickers and sunbathers had to jump up and flee the tide. It all happened so fast; one minute the sea was a few hundred feet away, and over the course of what felt like a few minutes, it was up to the sidewalk. The water came up and over into the parking-lot, leaving behind much debris and sand.

there goes the picnic

Another thing we have noticed here is how much erosion there is. It is very dry at this time of year, and although bougainvillea and cacti cling to sandy banks, not much is holding back a slide in the wet-season, or preventing the houses perched precariously at the hill top from falling into the sea. Cement and mesh is often tacked to the sheer ‘sand-faces’ (what probably was a rock face a few years ago). I am used to drought from living in both Northern California and then Vancouver Island summers, but because the landscape isn’t ‘green’, it feels so much more serious. I suppose it is just as well that less people live down here; less demand on limited water resources. But I guess flooding fields to grow almonds and other veggies use up plenty of water in the region. Maybe its the warm weather coming into play, but everyone here seems very ‘relaxed’ for California. The pace of life doesn’t seem to hectic. There aren’t that many people living here, the congestion no where near as much as San Francisco. The air is cleaner down South too, which I only hope lasts.

pelicans riding the (air) waves

There really is something to the saying that a sea breeze cures sickness. Maybe its just that it feels so damn good listening to the waves, letting them lull you to sleep. I think I read something about the fact that minerals are beaten out of the rocks by the waves are released into the air, which makes the air feel so good to us. When we realized that all of the sand (and parking lot!) at Aliso Beach were quickly flooded by the waves, we decided to head to another spot. It is fast becoming my local favorite. The beach is nearly deserted, and pelicans swoop by every now and again, landing with a ‘plop’ on the waves, ungraceful sitting as they are delicate in flight. Pelicans look so large close up, because they shrunk in size in my memory. They are practically the size of Condors!

I’ve begun knitting my PICC line cover. How deliciously normal it was to sit on a lounge chair on the beach, knitting, while the sun glares off very pale Canadian skin. I was a little cooler than I’d be willing to admit in the auditory world (e-confessions are fine of this nature…), hence the sweater, scarf, and sarong. But undaunted as the good little Canadian spirit and pride in me can be, I was determined to bury my feet in the sand, and watch the sun twinkle behind a cloud. Hey! – a twinkle is more than we can get in Victoria for several weeks…I’m not complaining!

Watch out!

I feel like a 4-year-old when it’s time to leave the beach. “But I don’t wanna go” *insert a pout here Amy – my cuz – would be proud of*. The beach has a kind of magic that I am wont to give up. It seems like as soon as a plunk down in the car and start brushing sand from between my lime green toes that I have returned to another plane in the universe where I am very ill, and people have to take care of me. On the beach, my imagination is free.

%d bloggers like this: