I've started and stopped and deleted 5 blog posts this evening. I seem to be in that in between world of wanting badly to write and not knowing what exactly I want to write, or how to write. Nothing seems to sound right. Nothing seems to flow at all. So, I'm going to share some photos I took from this last Labor Day Weekend. It was after Hurricane Irene hit and I headed out to Aaron's Beach to survey the changes. I knew things were different. I expected my favorite tree to be gone. I hadn't specifically asked anyone if it was still there and no one has mentioned it directly. I wanted to discover it's passing on my own. Walk around the corner and feel the biting pangs of loss- for a tree. And not just any tree- a dead one. I like to think of it as living driftwood. Stuck in the sand like a sculpture from Mother Nature. Imagine the surprise and (sounding slightly melodramatic I'm sure) the sheer joy of turning the corner and seeing my old friend. Not that we have been friends all that long. But what's time in the language of kindred spirits?
There's a metaphor in there somewhere.