Ann Metlay Artist and Writer
  • Home
  • About
    • Artist Statement
    • Calendar
  • My Journal
  • Portfolio
    • Chess Pieces
    • Mindfulness Vessels
    • Buddhas
  • Books
    • Ann, the Writer
  • Galleries
  • Contact
  • Home
  • About
    • Artist Statement
    • Calendar
  • My Journal
  • Portfolio
    • Chess Pieces
    • Mindfulness Vessels
    • Buddhas
  • Books
    • Ann, the Writer
  • Galleries
  • Contact

my journal

Father's Time

6/17/2017

2 Comments

 
Picture
In predawn’s black, before night fades, relinquishing its starry hold on the sky, an alarm rudely jolts the darkness.  Like stealthy spirits, my father and I arise, wordlessly.  We awaken no one else as we pull on layers of warm clothing.  My father, silent as the night skies, rolls the car down the driveway before he cracks the ignition.

Early morning grays the horizon.  Stars succumb to daybreak’s brightening.  We drive across the gray bridge that spans the bay.  In total silence we climb over the shoulder of Mount Tamalpais.  The fragrance of a redwood forest weaves through the moist air.  A sharp left turn begins the downward descent of hairpin curves.  The illumination of our headlights fights dense fog.

My father’s shoulder muscles loosen their grip across his chest as we first hear the rhythmic crash of waves.  Gravel splatters under our wheels.  We park at a break in the coastline’s boulders, follow the path between them, stretching downward to the craggy beach.  

The sky pinkens.  Foamy waves break, a quarter of a mile out beyond the rocky shore.  This super-low tide, my father’s mission, has uncovered the magic of the ocean’s intertidal floor.  We breathe in the enchantment of salt. 

Between the shoreline and the rumbling breakers a myriad of tidepools await us.  We check to be sure our sneakers are tightly tied before we begin to jump from rock to rock toward the waves.

Now and then we stoop to scrutinize a tiny seastar lying beneath our feet.  Minuscule fish hide under a rocky ridge.  Miniature crabs scuttle sideways across the shallow bottom, searching out a breakfast of sea star.  Sea anenomes their tentacles, like brightly colored petals, dance, keeping time to the music of the surf.  In one pool my father points to a bright red octopus, small as a tear.   On the damp rocks he kicks at a chiton, its plates of armor almost camouflaged by the steely gray boulder it grasps.

We share our beach with noisy seals.  They bark to one another as they, too, comb the tidepools for breakfast.  Gulls sweep overhead, their cacophonous shrieks scolding us for trespassing in their dining room.

Through mist the sun rises behind us.  Silently, a cottony fog settles into rocky crevices.  We are wrapped in a cool dampness.

Eventually the ocean begins to reclaim its rocks.  The rising tide dumps rivers into once tiny seas, enclosing the chitons that cling to its reef.  Spray salts our jackets as we clamber back across the rocks.  
​

We rewind the curves, sniff the redwood fragrance, shake with the rumbles on the bridge.  We enter the azure sparkle of sky, lying beyond the curtained shoreline. We do not speak.  The crash of breakers, the bark of seals and the scolding of gulls resound as shared memory. Our car crunches over the speckled blacktop in the driveway.  Without speaking we walk towards our house.  The rumbles from our awakening family tumble toward us.
2 Comments

    Ann Metlay

    "With all the beauty surrounding me here above the Verde Valley, how could I not create more beauty?"

    Archives

    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    June 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016

    Categories

    All
    1968
    Abandonment
    Acceptance
    A College Memory
    Adrift Wood And Stone Assemblages
    Affirming Life
    After Parkland
    All About The Moon
    Amazon Books
    Amber's Birds
    A Moving Journal
    An Age Old Controversy
    Antidote For A One-Day Winter
    April Sunrise
    Arizona Monsoons
    A Tribute To Clark Memorial Library
    Autism
    AZ
    Beauty
    Beginning Of Fall
    Berkeley Bourgeois Meets Bronco Busting Bar-Fighter
    Blessing Of The Bug
    Blessings
    Blowing Into Spring
    Body Image
    Book Reviews
    Breeze Song
    Butterfly Space
    Carrot Beet Soup With Dill
    Cats
    Celebrate
    Children
    Chilled Spinach Soup
    Chilled Tropical Fruit Soup
    Coming Into Health
    Cottonwood
    Cottonwood Studio
    Cottonwood Trees
    Cottonwood Village
    Cottonwood Waltz
    Devotion
    Dodi Checks In
    Doxies
    Dragon (A Story From The Classroom)
    Enchanted Wands
    Evolution Of Art
    Faith
    Father's Time
    Featured Artist
    Forming Community
    For The Love Of Cats
    Fresh Tomato Soup
    From Adrift
    Full Moon
    Genesis 1
    Grand Opening
    Gratitude List
    Hank Erwin
    Hanukah 2017
    Hanukkah 2018
    Happy Birthday
    Headlines
    Healing Wolf
    Helen
    High Holidays
    Holiday Blessings
    Holidays
    Homing Wands
    How I Moved To The Verde Valley Of Arizona
    How To Eat Matzoh
    How To Mark A Life Milestone
    I Live In Gratitude
    Immigrants
    In Honor Of Teaching
    Inspired By Louise Nevelson
    January 2017 First Friday Artwalk
    John F. Kennedy
    Jr.
    Judaism
    Judie Dies
    June 5
    Kindle
    Kittens
    Kitten Time
    Late Dinner
    Learning To Entertain
    Leaving Jerome
    Lech Lecha
    Let's Go Camping
    Light Food
    Lilacs
    Made In Clarkdale
    Making Choices
    Martin Luther King
    May
    Medication
    Meet Don Jones
    Memoir
    Memories For The Holidays
    Menus
    Mindfulness Vessels
    Modeling
    Mousie
    Moving Beyond Words
    Moving Down The Hill
    My Artistic Process
    My Latest Book
    My Tree
    New Artist Syndrome
    New Gallery
    New Studio
    Nightmares
    No
    On The 342nd Birthday Of This Country
    Open Studio
    Open Studios
    Palo Verde Trees
    Parents
    Patriot's Day
    Peace Corp.
    Pets
    Photo Shoot
    Poem
    Poems
    Poetry
    Political
    Potato Leek Soup
    Prayer
    Prayer Shawl
    Quality Of Life
    Ranch
    Rebirth
    Rebuttal
    Recipes
    Red Flag Warning
    Rehoming Ceramic Pieces
    Remembering Departed Friends
    Remembering Junipurr
    Reunion Thwarted
    Review Of 2018
    Ribbons
    Scenes From Day 2 Of Open Studios
    Season
    Sedona
    Self Assurance
    Self Doubts
    Shadow Of Athena
    Side Effects
    Soup
    Storms
    Studio Cats
    Summer
    Summer Soup
    Sunday Soiree
    Sunday Sunset Soirees
    Synagogue
    Teaching
    Thanksgiving
    Thanksgiving Grace
    The Man Who Blew In Off The Desert
    The Power Of Soups For Cold Weather
    The Woodman Cometh
    The Year To Come
    Toe Rings
    Torah
    To Restore Our Dreams
    To Restore Their Dreams
    Trauma
    Travel
    Tree Of Life
    Tree Parts In Desert Wood Assemblages
    Trump
    Verde Valley
    Waiting For The Monsoons
    Watermelon Dessert Soup
    Watermelon Gazpacho
    What Is Word Artistry?
    Wordless Poetry
    Zorb

    RSS Feed

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.