REPORT: June 23, 2010 - Wednesday - 5pm

OBSERVED: a fairly clean beach!

COLLECTED: nothing (I keep forgetting)


The waves were big today, and the rip currents strong enough for the lifeguards to be flying red flags. Luckily, we arrived just in time to see them leaving, their work day done - a "go" sign to my husband (T. OCEAN's dad), C. LEV; and out he swam into the waves, floating and body surfing. T. OCEAN and I mucked it up in the "soup" - that thick ocean foam created by a heavy shore break.

Today that shore break was strong enough to knock us over. But knowing its power, we simply road it - skimming the sandy surface while getting completely soaked - kind of like a Slip-N-Slide. As soon as T. OCEAN is able, however, he would much rather be out in the deep with his father. Soon enough.

The few pieces of trash I meant to deposit in the garbage were quickly forgotten when I saw T. OCEAN limping out of the water because a mass of sea lice bites had covered the entirety of his back left leg. I took him home immediately.

We are in day 65 of the Gulf Oil Disaster, and still the well is not capped and millions of gallons of oil are gushing out everyday. Pensacola, Florida is now seeing not only tar balls wash to shore but inky goo, and a large oil plume is a mere 5 miles from their coastline. Every time I read the news it is as if yet another panel, another department, another sub-organization is being formed to deal with the fallout of this crisis. The politics between local, corporate and federal officials are unending. There are north-eastern states who want to begin making plans for when (and if) the oil will make it into the loop current and come up the Atlantic Ocean into the Gulf Stream.

It all makes today's and each day's interaction with our beach all the more special, the more precious. Today was one of those. Day 65.


Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper

REPORT: June 16, 2010 - Wednesday - 7pm

OBSERVED: fair - clean

COLLECTED: sand, shells, seaweed


As I write this, T. OCEAN sits finishing his spaghetti dinner and watching the rest of "Ocean Drifters", a National Geographic movie from about 15 years ago. This and "Jewels of the Sea" are favorites. They were sponsored by Chevron.

The last part of "Ocean Drifters" summarizes the importance of the food chain from the most microscopic to the largest creatures along the Gulf Stream. How important even sea plankton are as a primary food source, yet absorbing all materials in the water - natural, chemical and otherwise. It doesn't take much for me to wonder what will happen - with what we can and what we cannot see - along the Gulf Stream, just out beyond our horizon.

Last night our president spoke in the Oval Office about the disaster in the Gulf. He says he has a plan. Perhaps a better plan than the oil company ever did. But I am deeply suspect about the realistic ability to return the oceans, marches and beaches to their original state. Sarcastically, I think....we'll pick up tar balls and drop off plastic. Sometimes, it just feels too great.

It's been a few days since we've been able to get to the beach, and I feel like I'm drying up. I'm physically tired and moving slowly, but we eventually make it out there just before 7:oo in the evening, hot and sweating. With the heat index, it's in the low 100's, and ocean is around 85 degrees, surprisingly warmer than a few days ago yet still refreshing after the long walk.

Trash was strewn around from day-trippers: plastic ziploc bags and wrappers and bottles. But the water was mostly clear except for bits of seaweed, and the tide was far out and only a light chop, perfect for T. OCEAN to test his metal again. He constantly walks out further and further, loving the feel of waves knocking against him. He's learned their timing and knows when to jump up and bob around, instinctively doing a little dog-paddle. These days even if he goes under, I know he can handle it and he won't panic. Still, I insist he stay close to me. He remembers and forgets, remembers, and forgets. A dance we do in the water.

I notice my body feels relieved and lighter on our walk home. The swim was good. The fresh air cleared my mind. We can now face the night at ease.

Your,
Little Mama Sea Keeper