Terns Turn Up?

I've never seen these birds on this beach before, five of them standing casually among the seagulls at sunset. Are they terns?

Bright orange beaks and short black legs...

Where did you come from? Anyway, welcome!

Sunset Prayers

Seagulls stand on the sand, facing the setting sun.

Humans also feel the sunset call to prayer, wherever they are.

A woman sits with outstretched arms as the sun sets.

Another bends to pick up bottles and debris from yesterday's storm, placing them in the bag she carries--her kind of prayer.

A man jogs backwards to see the sun set.

We're all built with a receptor that reads this golden light as a time to pause, perhaps to praise.

High Surf

For a change we have weather: gusty winds, lightning, hail, heavy snowfall in the mountains, possible waterspouts while thunderstorms pass over the ocean. Our two links to the world, I-5 and I-15, are closed by snow, but by evening the rain in Santa Monica has mostly stopped.

I arrive at the beach at 6:30 pm, too late to jog the length of it, because I've been gathering and mailing information for my mother's last tax return to her CPA.

Going through all her records took me into the last two months of her life before she died last April.

That difficult time fills my mind now as I stand at the stormy beach after dark, looking at the high surf and turbulent sky.

I try to jog but stumble on trash washed up by the storm; better to walk.

The very first storm drain, usually covered by sand, has become an uncrossable stream. Each wave of surf pushes up the channel against the water gushing out.

I turn and walk back in the dark, grateful for a time to reflect and be alone with God and nature.

From 2003, when I brought my mother to California, through last April, I didn't have an hour in the late afternoon to spend at the beach. Every day by 4 or 5 pm I visited my mother, if I hadn't already been taking her to the doctor or some other appointment.

Sometimes I took her in her wheelchair to the pier and walked there with her. If I jogged, it was usually at dawn.

I'm stunned by the difficulty of my life a year ago, juggling her needs and mine as she faced her decline and death.

Regrets come to mind: why didn't I spend the full day with her on the day before she died? (Because I thought I had to teach my class, and I didn't know it was her last day.)

As I walk north, I realize the ferris wheel on the pier with its programmed kaleidoscope of colors is still displaying Valentine's images: hearts and the word L-O-V-E spelled out in sequence.

I smile and my mind eases.

There's so much mystery--but also love.

Under the Planes

Jogging just south of Marina del Rey this evening... Dockweiler Beach, west of LAX. Homes above the beach have a great ocean view!

No one on this beach, a little spooky after sunset. Near the inlet to the Marina, there's a 40' sand berm above where I was jogging. What if a big wave came in, I thought, and I had to run up that sand hill? That would be a challenge.

Then, on the way back to the car, I passed this sign:

Leaving Tsunami Hazard Zone.

Weather for a Change

After the hottest January on record, day after day of empty skies and unseasonable heat, we suddenly have weather.

For two days we've had cloudbursts pounding off and on at the roof. They left two feet of standing water at my freeway exit, Cloverfield Blvd.

Three storm drains sent water pouring into the ocean, cutting through the deep sand to make mini-canyons.

It's not raining this evening, so I'm happy to run on the beach and breathe the fresh air.

I have to take a running leap over the remnants of the streams or else walk nearly to the sidewalk to get around them.

Near one of the streams is a group of people bending over the ground, either doing mouth-to-mouth on someone or starting a small fire.

It turns out to be a campfire, forbidden on this beach--amazing that I can jog here a hundred times and still see something I've never seen before.

After days of flat, calm water the waves are loud and powerful tonight.

On the way back, brilliant Venus peeks through the clouds, and I glimpse Orion's belt too. In the east the almost full moon rises.

"How can I keep from singing?" echoes in my mind from the Feb. 6 daily reading in Open Mind: Women's Daily Inspiration for Becoming Mindful by Diane Mariechild.

She quotes part of the traditional hymn:

My life goes on in endless song
above earth's lamentations,
I hear the real, though far-off hymn
that hails a new creation.
Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear its music ringing.
It sounds an echo in my soul.
How can I keep from singing?

Smooth Sailing

A serene evening with a Santa Ana weather pattern, hot winds from the north east deserts instead of the ocean. That leaves the water flat and calm, waves small with only a light slap as they turn over.

The daytime is too hot for this time of year, in the 80s. Kids are swimming in the ocean, even after sunset.

Bountiful Beauty

I pause to look northwest, toward Malibu and the Santa Monica Mountains, before jogging down to the Venice breakwater.

This evening, as February begins, there's nowhere else I want to be.

I'm astonished at all the beauty on this planet and in the surrounding skies.

When I leave Colorado, or Iguazu Falls, or some other beautiful place, I feel sad to return to Los Angeles, but the truth is that there is plenty of beauty, wherever one turns.