Ripples of light are dancing on the water trying to attract my attention. I refuse steadfast to be drawn. Someone told me once that in relenting I’d burn my retinas. I think I’m gonna need those.
I’m listening to Feist. I never listen to Feist.
"I know more than I knew before."
I back away from the edge, preparing to charge. Afraid to jump into the freezing water, this is the only way. My hands creep up to cover my eyes, then part slowly as I sneak a peek. The dancing light is welcoming me now.
And I run.
Walking on water is its own game. The rocks are elusive: sometimes slippery, sometimes downright unstable. The best are rock (no pun intended) solid tips of underground mountain ranges waiting for their moment of purpose as I test my weight on them gingerly. Onwards.
It’s the texture that draws me in. The sound too. Splashes abound like jets of onomatopoeia bursting into the air. Sometimes chunky and flat: “pat, pat,” as I flow past in confident strides; sometimes breezy and light: “splish,” as my toes dip in and out of the current first, flicking water upwards. Rainbows flicker resplendently in the momentary rush.
From the Coastal Trail
The Golden Gate Bridge from above Marshall Beach
Going through another phase
Fancy San Francisco home
Looking back on Spring and one of my favourite hashtags on instagram, #wisteriawatch
I didn’t realise until this year how much I like flowers
Anna and Gus
Spring flowers are the best flowers. Back in April when Anna and I hunted all over the Heath for Bluebells.
This little guy in Pacifica, again
From Fort Mason