It was magnificent. I saw and experienced so many treasures. My beach sneakers were soft and comfortable, they were saturated and no longer made the deafening squishing sound, nor were my feet cold. It felt so natural. I went where I needed to go, and getting wet wasn’t a barrier. I had my morning garb on and nothing mattered this morning. It was Saturday.
I was acutely aware of the number and kinds of birds I saw. Eagles (two), seagulls (both mature and juvenile), Murres, ducks, geese, herons (three), crows and a loon. Eight walks of feathered life within an hour of my doorstep. That is magic. Or maybe the magic is me taking the time to notice them, not just see them, but experience them, wonder at them, pay attention to them, observe them.
My answer to the terrible indecision that plaqued me seemed so clear after watching them.
The treasures I found treasures to fill my baggy pockets with were truly priceless. A couple of sand dollars beckoned to be picked up. I had thoughts of mailing a few to Lyla. I remember the sand dollars Maureen gave me so long ago. I still have them today and have become such a precious gifts marking the East Coast era of my life. I thought about passing that on. I came across more buried in the wet sand save for a tip or a sun bleached white edge catching my eye. I began thinking how special it would be to put in birthday cards for everyone. Then I spied more. It was like the more I thought of giving them away the more I found. It fit with the spiritual reading I took in that morning. About how we will become less and less interested in ourselves – our little designs and plans, and become increasingly interested in what we can pack into the mainstream of life. And it was happening to me right now with the sand dollar idea.
Sea glass, a couple of limpets, purple muscle shells, a flat scallop shell the size of a loonie. They were truly priceless. A couple of sand dollars beckoned to be picked up and I had thoughts of mailing a few to my cousin. I remember the sand dollars Maureen gave me so long ago and still have them today – that have become a precious gift marking the East Coast era of my life. I came across more sand dollars buried in the wet sand except for a sun bleached tip or white edge catching my eye. I began thinking how special it would be to put them in birthday cards for everyone. Then I spied more. It was like the more I thought of giving them away the more I found. It fit with the spiritual reading I took in that morning about how we will become less interested in ourselves, our little designs and plans, and become increasingly interested in what we can pack into the mainstream of life. And it was transpiring in that very moment with beach treasures to share. How I could brighten someone else’s day instead of clamouring around my perplexing indecisions I’d been struggling with. I was new to recognizing the difference between constructive and destructive thinking.
I found a beautiful deeply ridged clamshell perfectly intact with its mate, perfect for my porch railing.
And right between the shells and happy thoughts two great new blue herons landed ten feet away. I moved too fast and one took flight, his great wing beat gained momentum as he faded in the horizon. But not before I saw something flutter down from him. I thought it was a muscle or a clam but when I got there it was a beautiful full length feather. It landed so tenderly on the water in a tidal pool and I rushed to get it but I didn’t want to scare the second bird so moved gently closer to retrieve the silken plume. It was a good twelve inches long and I couldn’t believe my luck finding it when the second one took flight. I watched his stately departure with the ceremonial beat of his majestic wings.
We are truly blessed to live here in heaven on earth.
and here’s the last passage in the novel:
Just then, two great blue Herons landed on the sand right in front of us. We scared one and it took flight with his leg dangling behind his tail feathers, his steady wing beat gained momentum as we watched him fade to a dot on the horizon. Something dropped when he first took off, but my eyes were mesmerized watching him dwindle. Once he was out of his sight, I patiently, so as not to scare the second one clopped over to investigate his dropped treasure.
“It’s a feather,” I hollered to Daniel holding up the most perfect silken plume. “He lost a feather.”
My voice startled the second bird and we stood transfixed, watching the stately departure with the his neck tucked in and deliberate wing beat of majestic proportions. I walked back over to Daniel and lightly skimmed his cheek with my new found treasure.
“It’s a sign,” I said. Good things are coming.