Still hanging on!

Jayne Lombardo lives!
She's still critical but has made it through a few rough days. We didn't think that she would make it to the hospital but she is strong. She will fight to be there for her kids. Right now the doctors are trying to control the swelling on her brain before they operate on her. She has a broken collar bone, pelvis, elbow, legs, ribs, fingers and toes. There is not much left untouched. Her eyes are swollen shut and her vision could be compromised.
But there is hope...
She has many prayers and positive thoughts coming her way. Meals are being prepared for her family by her many friends and neighbors. The kids will try returning to school tomorrow, but this family will never be the same. They will need support for a long time.
Although she doesn't have a blog site yet, anyone wishing to send a message can go onto Facebook and join the group "Supporting Jayne."

Tragedy....seeking positive thoughts for Jayne!

I now seek positive energy for a friend in need.
I left Fleet last week after a beautiful summer and now tragedy has struck again. My close friend and neighbor was hit by a car crossing the street in front of her house just around dark last night. In front of her kids. I heard all of the screams but thought that the kids were playing manhunt, until the cops and ambulances came. It was a horrific sight.The boys that hit her were also school friends of her children. Everyone was screaming and hysterical. Severe head trauma as she went off the windshield before being thrown 25 feet into a stone wall.She was life-flighted out by helicopter, but they couldn't stabilize her to leave for a long time ...it doesn't look good. She might loose an eye and has extensive facial damage, multiple fractures and we don't know if she'll make it yet. The next 48 hours are crucial.
This woman also has spirit similar to the inspirational Caleb Potter. Jayne Lombardo is loved by so many. Always so outgoing and upbeat, Quick with a smile and ready to help anyone. The backbone of her family, friends and everyone she meets, so I hope that she will also make it as far as Caleb has.
I will write more as this woeful tale unfolds in the next few days. After following Caleb's blog for over a year now, I know that she and her family will never be the same and are in for a very long hall.
I call to those places of power that gave me so much inspiration this summer, that magic that comes off of the dunes, the trinkets and treasures to the right of LeCounts, and to anyone that might come across this blog in cyberspace to help send positive karma for Jayne Lombardo!

Cleansed

A quick trip, just a weekend jaunt. Back to Fleet for a breather before being packed up into my summer box, to be shelved until the return. One morning full of mist and two more of sun. Almost perfect, almost. I'm now resigned to the fact that some things will never measure up, never be the same.
Anyway, the treasure...
The walk was perfect, as the beach was clean. Swept up and away, the shore ever changing. Gone were most landmarks so familiar in July and August. A very high tide had come in with force and gone out with all. Even the sculpted castles and crisp edges had vanished. Vanquished into the rolling blue, to be deposited elsewhere at another time. Only the strong survive they say, and that held true with the treasure...the trinkets and trash were gone. The path of seaweed and gateway were gone. The tide had come up and swept through the original structure. The foundation intact for it's good bones endured. Some tidbits here and there, secure in their place above ground, survived. Surprisingly, the cleansing didn't bother me. The trifle offerings of others, the trash and the ordinary really didn't have a place there among the special things. With no official entryway, it gave invitation to be viewed and enjoyed from many perspectives, just not the obvious. I took a look from the left instead. Another metaphor for my life.

Over the bridge

Gone. Packed up, on the road. It didn't seem too bad. Until I arrived back to my life. Yard overgrown, refrigerator empty and a layer of dust and cobwebs covering most surfaces. How does Jim live here and not see?
I miss the sound of the pines cradling the house in the morning breeze. I miss waking up to put on a pot of coffee, stand at my door and survey the day. I miss my beach walk and painting on the patio. I miss my bottle of red wine!
Over the bridge I went, back to the mundane, the everyday existence which I must endure till the seasons change once more and release me.
I have the beach in my head as K.B. keeps. The way the mist comes off the water, curls up the dunes and rolls back upon the sand, waiting to be burned off by mid-morning. The hot sand on my toes, the sound of the rocks lazily rolling under the waves. The way the seals poke their heads up and follow my progress. I have the sun on my back, although in reality my toes and fingers are chilled here at home. Fall is waiting it's turn.
Tomorrow will be worse. Back to work. The first few days of meeting new people, new assignments and students can be exciting, but then it wears off and become the Job.
My summer life has started to fade, as the warm days of laconic strolls to the treasure have. The cool mists of Wellfleet have begun to be replaced by the even crisper air of Gospel Hill. The scent of farm, apples ripening and buses collecting their charges.
Time to re-charge and put on my bright face.

Change happens.

So, I walked the walk and was filled with wonder as I passed by countless castles. Carved by the storm last night, the beach had been torn away. High tide left little room to pass. Walking close with walls of sand overhead gave me the feeling of seeing the valleys, buttes and cliffs of the Grand Canyon. Turret-like, almost mini castleswith layers of sand in various degrees of drying left stripes and unique edges. It looked like lace along the top, as those miles of carvings held onto the furthest most outposts before they dropped off the jagged edge and were swept away.
Gone were the fish of previous days, gone were the rocks, and absent were the usual pods of seals that greet me along my way. Gone were the ropes and signs that protect the plovers. No boundaries. No lines to keep clear of. The rusted steel beam that held my vertical wood logs in check, gone, but appeared further down the beach in the treasure trove. No landmarks...the square white bottle at the half way, picked clean by another contributor. Amazing how quickly things change. In place, dredged up from another place and time came quite an assortment of new large beams, different logs and stranded lengths of ropes, tangled, bleached and worn. Yellow fins, a hiking boot, a zippo and the ever present balloons made there way to the now well visited trove.
On the journey back, I spotted a beautiful piece of driftwood, worn smooth. My new small sculptural pile untouched by the tide, being high up next to the comfort of the dune appreciated the deposit. I could paint.

Coming to Peace

Time is winding down for my walking the sands. Start of a new year sooner than wanted, but inevitable. As the waves roll or pound depending on outside influences, so my life also takes shape. Will these stream of consciousness reports be inspired from a new source, or dwindle to weekend jaunts?
I need the inspiration of the water and sands, the found objects arranging themselves into new sculptural expressions, yet time to get back to the other world and real life. Will I take this place of power as a life change when given the opportunity? Or will I run? Or will I play it safe? Time only knows.
So, today I prepare to venture out along the edge once more. Others have now added to my guardians and compilations of trinkets. It detracts and devalues my intended spirit, although I know I should be encouraged by the shared experience. There is nothing original, and I'm sure I wasn't the first, but none the less, I am not thrilled to see the clones. But I will try to walk with openness of soul.
There was a violent storm yesterday and I am curious to see what survived and what more was brought forth from the depths.
The constant change actually should bring peace. Add to, or wash away clean...life continues at nature's pace.

Cast of silver

Silver gleaming along the edge. Shown bright in the sunlight, a streak of light along the shore. A vertical piece of lace. Fish, nothing but small fish. Cast about, thrown onto the sand, bitten, and headless, their countless scales sparkle in the sand and sea foam. Their fine bones exposed. Miles of small, silver strokes on the canvas. Birds of all sizes and colors feasted this morning.
My spirits and treasures were intact today. A few additional offerings displayed. I found my smaller shrine also untouched. It is always amazing to see that although the shore seems calm by day, so many new things are brought forth overnight to be discovered in the light. I was able to bring a few new colorful trinkets and pieces of driftwood to the compilation, and spied more for another day. A tee shirt, a hair band, goggles, sunglasses, foam and a swim fin. The twist of rope will have to wait, as will the rust from a ship's past.
Painting went well today. A close-up partial self-portrait with the treasures in the background. Maybe not original, but different for me to include myself.