If the artist has outer and inner eyes for nature, nature rewards him by giving him inspiration. – Wassily Kandinsky
Chuckling, I discover my initials drawn in the sand by newborn clams. Curlicues scribbled at daybreak await the tide’s erasure. Billions of evanescent atomic fairies and sprites dance over the landscape with magical ephemeral lanterns. Flit and flutter streaking at the edges of the peripheral vision – back and forth like the light of a ship’s lantern across vaporous waters.
Cryptic stanzas scrawled by subterraneans across the backshore are inexorably edited by the relentless zephyrs of eveningfall. Grain by grain the seashore shifts silently eastward. Greenrooted pickets stand watch on the micro-border between nature and “civilization”. Abstract-expressionist figures writhe across undulating dunes festooned with garlands of greenery.
Overflowing Nature’s ingenious molecular forces relentlessly shape and reshape the shoreline like a trillion-handed construction corps. Laying down layer after asymmetrical layer of remnants and sediments like miniaturized grand canyons. Rivulets of backflow meander downslope towards the never-still sea carrying terrestrial debris to awaiting watery recyclers.
At the water’s edge spume tendrils spin and swirl atop the waves like antediluvian lace. The deep’s ultramarine grandeur has inspired centuries of poets and adventurers to seek its embrace. Whiffs of briny perfumed breath lure the soul to explore the unfathomable edges. Inspiration awakens and follows when finally turning towards home like a faithful guardian angel. But part of the heart remains to freely frolic in the surf awaiting the inevitable reunion.