REPORT: December 25, 2010 - 9:30am

CHRISTMAS DAY

Winter on the beach is very special to me because it's mine. And T. OCEAN's too, yes. It is windy, desolate and spare. Visitor's do appear, but only for the requisite time to see the water, take a photo, then leave. The Happy Spider still keeps her perch in the mangroves. The gulls flock together by type - seagull, laughing gull. Tiny sandpipers stay busy digging morsels of food out of the sand. Plastic bits sticking up out of the windswept ground flap in the air. The shore break is groomed clean of all seaweed. Bits of driftwood are easier to find. The lifeguard reads. And the occasional winter swell bring small but welcomed waves to local surfers.

T. OCEAN brings his "snowboarders" - 2 plastic army men, 1 green, 1 beige, both found on the beach on previous visits - and drops himself onto the ground plunging the little men into the sand they perform outrageous flips and big airs. They have been transformed into a snowy terrain filled with mountains and blown up tracks. He's gone, escaping into his own winter wonderland.

I am waiting for the man-o-war to appear. With them ride glaucous - the strange blue slug with tiny appendages for arms that float upside down. The beach was sprinkled with them 2 years ago having washed up with the jellies. I haven't seen them since then. Still I do see pelicans hunting on the water, turkey vultures dancing in the sky, and large schools of fish skimming over the waves in the distance. Life rolling on.

With our human absence the beach sighs, takes a breath. Like letting the field go fallow she is allowed to rest only to return to sow and draw from again come spring. She is quiet. All is calm. All is bright.


Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper

REPORT: December 2, 2010 - 4:45pm

Winter in South Florida brings out the scavengers. The lizards and butterflies hide out while raccoons and turkey buzzards appear.

Bundled up on the beach, T. OCEAN and I are the only ones around except the lifeguard waiting for the 5:00 hour -- standing on the stairs, sweatshirt on, gear packed, face in the sun. A couple appears to the north and photograph themselves in front of the ocean-as-backdrop, then leave. I pull my hood over my head and lie back, eyes to the sky. The expanse is so blue and without end it makes my head feel like it's being crushed, dizzy with space. Into the frame flying high is a turkey buzzard, then another. I look to my left, north -- a swirl of buzzards are heading south plowing through the pale blue space. They appear to be in random formation. A slow-moving tornado of birds, group after group of them migrating to where I haven't a clue. Black specks in the distance, black bird over-head then black spinning specks again.

By it's very (human) desolation the beach in winter can be for me at its most personal and real. Altogether too humanly real when lying down I can also now see at ground level the immensity of scraps of plastic sticking up out of the wind-swept sand. It's everywhere as far as the eye can see!! No space unclaimed in the evening raking light.

I look back up, and return my focus to the sky.


Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper

REPORT: November 25, 2010 - THANKSGIVING DAY

Both T. OCEAN and I woke at the same time this morning, well before C. LEV. So after shaking off the sleep, I sat down on the small cushion I use to meditate and placed another next to me encouraging T. OCEAN to take a seat to my right. He did. And continued to listen and understand when I prompted him to fold his legs over - just like we do in yoga - then rest his hands upon his knees. He did. He lost me on the breathing part, but followed me in his own 3 year-old mind when I said, "now let's say 'thank you for'...and 'thank you to'...the sun, the sky, Grandma and Grandpa, Nonno and Yaya, everything we have, the ocean....and there began his long and joyous list of animals who live in the sea. When I failed to repeat "sting ray", he reiterated it several times, eyes gazing upward at me waiting until I said, "yes, sting ray".

It was a start.

And it was sweet to me to see what it is my son thinks of when we say "thank you". Today, I am grateful for the ability to walk down to the beach TWICE; to spend some of the day with my love; and all of the day with my little boy who will, eventually, grow up and find other wonderful people to celebrate the holiday with - there's no doubt he'll branch out.

On the first visit out around noon, I noticed that the beach had been meticulously cleaned - not a shred of seaweed in sight. The posted 80 degrees was puzzling as it felt remarkably colder by at least 3 degrees - my body now accustomed to sensing water temperature fairly accurately. But by the second visit around 5:00, the water actually seemed warmer! The sun having almost set, however, kept us on shore.

Well, if we don't have our families nearby, at least we have each other -- and the beach.


Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper

REPORT: November 18, 2010 - 4pm

Too much has passed since I last wrote, yet nothing stood still, least of all the ocean. There were days I wanted to write with total excitement about the insane phenomenon we saw...

...thousands, if not millions, of small bate fish washing ashore so that the crest of the waves were nothing but jumping fish, all frantically swimming South. Or the day the waves came on-shore at an amazing 10 - 14 feet high! It looked like Hawaii out there. Surfers were everywhere (and not 1 swimmer). Such AWESOME beauty! I would have loved to go out in it just to feel the strength of the waves against my human size. And then there's the smallest creature who now greets us along the path EVERY day -- a silver and black, shield-shaped spider. We call him (or her) the "Happy Spider", and stop to say "hello" since he is always in the same place -- smack in the middle of his intricate, cross-woven web which is strung in between an open spot amongst the mangrove leaves.

Although there have been days in which there isn't much trash, unfortunately most times the beach is considerably littered with plastic especially along the shoreline. I don't want to focus on it too much because it doesn't seem to help. I pick up what I can (as usual), and go on with the day (and sleep a little better at night). At least the water has been especially clear and clean.

And then there was yesterday...

...around 4 pm, the sun now setting so early in the sky, the water a much cooler temperature (79 degrees) -- T. OCEAN and I play close to the shore break for a short frolic. Out of nowhere and heading South came a group of manta rays - brown on top, white underneath and about 3 to 4 feet long each. Swimming by us the first time was one thing. But they decided to trek back again, retracing their route; then two more returned for one more pass. Perhaps they were feeding. There was certainly plenty of activity (jumping bait fish) and tiny jellyfish around. The ocean was very alive with its animals that did not seem to mind gliding right past a mother and little boy splashing about. Really a great feeling.

I think one of the most magical things about interacting with the ocean daily is what it does for my mind. Between T. OCEAN and the ever-changing world of the sea, I am able to focus on only what is in front of me. In the moment; the here and now as it were. Events such as these leave me feeling very lucky and truly graced to be so close to where nature is unbound and wondrous. I see like a child at these times, and forget my mortality (and the reality of a mother's perpetual to-do list).

Pictures to come....


Until then,
Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper

September 22, 2010 - 5pm

The beach had been scraped clean! As if a bulldozer came and pushed away every piece of seaweed and trash in its path. It must have been fairly recent because there weren't even many foot prints on the flattened runway. Pristine. That is until I can see that no amount of cleaning could get all the small fish buried in the sand.

None-the-less, I'm delighted to know that our playground is groomed and looked after.


Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper

REPORT: September 20, 2010 - 5pm

Although the beach was noticeably cleaner, there were small, dead bait fish strewn all over the shoreline, especially in the seaweed tracks where the break had come up and receded. Fish heads, fish bodies. It had me wondering -- if this is what came ON shore, exactly how much was out in the water? Those two hurricanes churned up a lot of life.

Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper

REPORT: September 18 and 19, 2010

Still an enormous amount of rubbish along the shoreline, but not so overwhelming that I can't pick up a bag-full and feel that it was something. The rip currents continue to be a force greater than T. OCEAN can swim in, so we remain in the shallows and dry sand.

On the way home up the path, we stop and dawdle. Everything is game for interaction to a 3 year old boy.


Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper

REPORT: Septmeber 16, 2010 - 6pm

empty beach. rip currents too strong to swim. evening on the beach watching T. OCEAN play in the wide open space.


Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper

REPORT: Sepember 17, 2010

PHOTOS from the last couple of weeks....running along the shore break, rainbow as backdrop, drumming with found sticks...


OBSERVED over the past 2 weeks: more and more and more debris along the shoreline. Hurricanes Earl and Igor, and other smaller storms have brought so much trash to our beaches that I was overwhelmed today to even know where or if to begin picking up anything. Most days recently I have been able to take a bag-full away and feel like I made some small accomplishment. Today was not one of those days.

I have read about the recent confirmation by scientists who concluded that at least 3 of the 5 world's oceanic gyres contain a kind of "plastic soup"; and the only way to clean it is to prevent the debris from getting in there in the first place. After all, they say, it's difficult to clean once the trash gets into the ocean because it's so dispersed.

Since coming to the beach almost daily, I have a slightly different opinion. It seems to me that the ocean does a fine job of cleaning itself, even utilizing the powerful storms out at sea to help this process along. The waves deposit all forms of unwanted matter onto shore, thereby making it easier to remove. The trick is to do so before the next high tide comes to take it all back out again.

I sometimes imagine what it would be like if I had the time to come out every evening (on my own) with a rake and many large bins and just sweep along the shore line....but this is not only my beach or my town or my ocean. Realistically, I'll do what I can when I can.

In the meantime, my little boy has learned to sift through the seaweed tangled mess and pull out the sea-pods and sticks, only to joyfully throw them back out into the water so that he may watch them come back to shore again, repeating this process like a boy-Sisyphus. Observing him, I find the balance between the child who is able to recognize what is unnatural and destructive, and what is so intuitively his own place of beauty that he is always at home there.


Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper

REPORT: September 4, 2010 - Saturday - 5pm

Over the month of August there were many observations, and even a few carefully selected seashells and driftwood that I collected. There were days when the beach was practically free of debris, and others when an enormous an amount of trash washed up during storms and heavy currents. In this past month, my camera stopped working - hence, no pictures on this post.

I learned a few things and have watched as T. OCEAN has too. He now has an almost obsessive need to pick up the trash he sees. And when I insist on him not touching it, he absolutely makes sure that I take care of it. It also bothers him greatly when I have to explain that there are times when there might be too much for me to pick up -- to much for one person. Or that I'm not prepared to clean all the streets, and sidewalks and parks. To him, trash is trash. Without realizing it, I helped create something much bigger in him than I would have imagined. I'm still working on how to best work with him on this.

I have asked myself -- would it be possible to be on the beach without noticing debris and solely enjoy the beauty alone? While I have no doubt I will always find enjoyment being by the water, I have concluded that I can't look away from the trash without acknowledging that I am in fact looking away. Once aware, I cannot make myself unaware. So I guess I may always feel the compulsion to care this place I love.

As of today, the BP well was secured. The last step of finishing the relief well and sealing it off on the bottom will come in another week or so. Three days ago another rig off the Louisiana coast in shallower water blew up, although it wasn't nearly the disaster the BP rig was.

Even though the NOAA predictions for the oil to reach our South FL coastline came and went (August 18th) without it actualizing, the other suppositions that there are no oil plumes were disproved when scientists located one about 22 miles long.

News on all these stories is now getting harder to find in the headlines; other stories now more current, the imminent crisis abated.

Yesterday Tove and I went out to the beach in spite of the thunder to the southwest and light raindrops. We sat side-by-side under our large umbrella watching the most amazing waves. The only people out were surfers - small groupings of them along the north and south break - not a soul in between. Sea gulls teamed overhead making the most of plentiful fish. Hurricane Earl passed us just a day or two earlier, creating the optimal conditions for waves that appeared to rise out of the gray mist. Six to eight foot swells sent surfers skirting across the shoreline. New surfers scurried onto the beach, boards in hand, only to stop dead in their tracks upon realizing the amazing gift before them. The surfers who called it a day and came back to shore stood and watched, mesmerized. A rainbow provided the backdrop and a slight breeze and warm rain were our companions. It was, for me, one of the MOST BEAUTIFUL sights on this beach I have ever seen. And I felt lucky beyond belief to have been there. My little boy, his tiny hand on my knee, watched it all go by with me - together.

More to come...


Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper

REPORT: July 31, 2010 - Saturday - 6pm

OBSERVED: a fairly clean beach over-all; plenty of children everywhere; clearest blue-green water and tons of sea shells all along the water's edge; a pelican floating in the distance watching the schools of fish below; sandpipers scampering across the wet sand for their next meal; T. OCEAN trying out some new swim moves

COLLECTED: nothing


I have decided to pull back from posting (almost) everyday, and instead write only when something specific comes up or happens. Time for me to focus some of that attention on other creative outlets that have been stirring. Stay tuned though, because there's one thing I have learned since starting this -- the ocean (and T. OCEAN) is full of surprises.


In the Meantime, I Remain,
Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper

July 30, 2010 - Friday - 6pm

OBSERVED: brewing storm north of us, strong winds out of the south...deciding when to leave as the storm grew overhead, thunder heard, water getting choppy but at least very clear now

COLLECTED: nothing



Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper

July 29, 2010 - Thursday - 7:30pm

OBSERVED: the sky; the rippling water which was fairly clear and again very warm

COLLECTED: nothing

July 28, 2010 - Wednesday - 6pm

OBSERVED: very warm water; pesto of seaweed along the shallower water; kids and families all around; a bit of trash

COLLECTED: nothing

Today was the 100th day since the oil disaster started. Although the cap they put on the well head is still holding, there are quite a few more steps to ensure that is permanently closed. Then of course, there's the on-going clean up. Because most of the oil seems to be below the surface (thanks to chemical dispersement), there is a question as to whether South Florida will actually "see" any of the oil come up through the loop current afterall.

As for our evening on the beach, the strangest things were two brown-stained items - a plastic cup and bottle. They held no odor, but were dyed through and through. A few gems from the sea - coral, sea glass, stone, stick, a piece of wood -- "Still Life on Towel."

T. OCEAN and I played in the seaweed-thick water for a while, then he slowly destroyed someone's left-behind sandcastles. I guess one person's sandcastles are another person's demolition.

Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper

REPORT: July 26, 2010 - Monday - 6:30pm

OBSERVED: a full moon tonight. Sandpipers have returned. They skirt up and down the beach in cliques, scurrying along the shore's edge for hermit crabs. There was some trash to dispose, but not too bad really.

COLLECTED: nothing


The ocean today was strangely murky. So much seaweed and sea matter had been muddled into tiny ground bits that I couldn't see through to the bottom like I usually can. I had the sensation of being lightly tickled all over from the sea greens, and it honestly was too odd for me to feel comfortable swimming for long. Plus, there were so many fish jumping out of the water, but unlike other days, I could not see the schools swimming by so cloudy was the water.

T. OCEAN and I settled for taking turns going from sand to sea. Makes me realize how fortunate we are for all those other perfectly clear-water days.


Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper

REPORT: July 25, 2010 - Sunday - 6pm

OBSERVED: the usual bits of plastic, bottles and cups to be thrown away. I see my neighbor coming up the beach doing the same thing as me - picking up rubbish. We laugh about it, and talk about T. OCEAN for a while.

COLLECTED: nothing


The water was rough enough to play in the shallower water and still get knocked around. T. OCEAN had a blast, and encouraged some other little children watching him to do the same.

We saw two familiar birds - what I had been calling a "blue crane". Luckily my neighbor and her husband told me that they are called Night Herons. At last I have a name - the right one, and a good one at that. They fly so elegantly.


Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper

REPORT: July 24, 2010 - Saturday - 6pm

OBSERVED: my sleeping child

COLLECTED: nothing


An extremely rare moment turns into an hour to relax. I hardly knew what to do with myself since T. OCEAN fell asleep in his stroller on the walk to the beach. So, I parked him on the high sand in the evening shade of the lifeguard tower and went for a swim--by myself. I cannot recall the last time that happened. I could see him clearly from where I was and darted in and out of the waves for a while - the surf had significantly calmed since the storm Bonnie had passed through yesterday. After some time, I rested next to him on a towel while he slept still upright in his stroller completely oblivious to the breeze and sounds of the ocean - a welcome change from the synthesized "ocean sounds" played for him through the night on a "noise machine".

An hour to myself, and finally my mind has taken a welcome break from the constant demands of motherhood AND as Sea Keeper .... I pick up nothing. I notice only the open and welcoming ocean in evening light. Thanks T. OCEAN!

Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper

REPORT: July 23, 2010 - Friday - 6pm

OBSERVED: so much trash!! still rough surf conditions; plenty of families out enjoying the beach

COLLECTED: nothing


After several days of continued rough water, the ocean has belched up the dredges of rubbish castoffs -- broken bits of Styrofoam litter the seaweed-lined shore instead of sea shells. In what amounts to probably a mere 100 feet of expanse, I pick up well over 20 bottle caps. And of course, the usual suspects as well - bottles, broken plastic shards, weird medical tubes of liquid. In spite if the debris, the sand has been carved away by the heavy shore break, and has left a winding pattern worthy of an ink painting - ribboned and extending well beyond my sight-line. The ocean as sculptress.


Your,
Little mama Sea Keeper

REPORT: July 22, 2010 - Thursday - 5pm

OBSERVED: heavy chop with strong rip currents; plenty of debris along the shoreline; the incoming tropical storm named Bonnie is named and heading into the Keys/Miami area, then will be making its way over into the Gulf towards Louisiana within the next few days...hence the rough surf.

COLLECTED: a bag of trash, all kinds

We make the most of the ocean swells, and C. LEV enjoys the action in the water swimming against the strong current that wants to pull him north. A beautiful evening once again.


Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper

REPORT: July 21, 2010 - Wednesday - 6pm

OBSERVED: an unrelenting amount of trash visible up and and down the coast along where the seaweed was deposited by high waves. The shore break is a watery pesto of seaweed and shells and almost too rough to play in. We make the most of it playing catch along the shallower water.

COLLECTED: nothing


Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper

REPORT: July 20, 2010 - Tuesday - 5pm

OBSERVED: shore break so strong only C. LEV went out. I lost my sunglasses in the crashing waves. Oh well. Plenty of trash (so much plastic!!) to pick up. The sun kept up its heat, the water a constant 85 degrees.

COLLECTED: nothing


It was T. OCEAN's turn to create tonight...his marker painting en plein air shown here.


Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper

REPORT: July 19, 2010 - Monday - 6pm

OBSERVED: continued heavy shore break. more trash - enough to fill a shopping bag. beautiful evening.

COLLECTED: nothing

REPORT: July 18, 2010 - Sunday - 5pm

OBSERVED: more people + rougher currents = more trash. Some of it has barnacles on it indicating its voyage through the tides, and some of it is up on the sand, a recent addition.

COLLECTED: nothing


Another gorgeous evening. I kept T. OCEAN close since the rip currents and shore break where incredibly strong. I almost lost my swimsuit body surfing a wave into shore. A man next to me lost his eyeglasses as he attempted to fight off a 6 foot break. He didn't stand a chance. None of us did with that pounding water, but it sure was a thrill to try.

This evening I read a wonderful short passage from a thoughtful and poetic book called Still Life with Oysters and Lemon:

...the Atlantic expanse...that shoreline's a perpetual image of change, and of freedom. Nothing stays there long, be it shell or seawrack or seal, dinghy or beached boat. The exact edge where where water touches land is never still, constantly revising itself, expanding and contracting...And mobile, too, instable. The open horizontals of coast are the figure of fluid and aerial being--not rooted, not grounded, not held down or back by attachment.


Personally, I take a deep satisfaction of knowing that every day will be different along this coastline. Perhaps it is the sense of freedom in that wide open space - that feeling of not being rooted or attached - which allows me the joy of simply being right there with no desire to be elsewhere.


Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper

REPORT: July 17, 2010 - Saturday - 6pm

OBSERVED: more people, stronger currents, more debris, seaweed tangled with debris, shells, bits of wood strewn high above the tide line, pelicans and osprey overhead

COLLECTED: seaweed, wood


The path to (and from) the beach is the one place T. OCEAN loves to walk through very, very slowly. To him, it is part of the journey. He picks up sticks, throws them; finds more sticks, uses it to pierce through mangrove leaves, throws them again; watches ant trails; takes it all in. It's a journey to me, watching him.


Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper

REPORT: July 16, 2010 - Friday - 6pm

OBSERVED: more bottles and plastic, heavy chop with strong rip currents; amazing clouds overhead; gorgeous evening

COLLECTED: seaweed, shells

A swim together; a few moments to paint a little; watched my son and my husband play in the soft light, ocean breeze. We SLOWLY make our way home, happy that summer will last.


Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper