Posted by: Shanna Germain | 05/17/2009

Pg. 47: A Day of Looking Closely

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I’m coming to love the beach more and more. I’ve always wanted to live near the ocean (I wrote “leave near the ocean” the first time, which Freud would have loved), and now I’m here. It’s a blessed life, truly.

Stats:

  • Weather: “Is it raining?” my dad asks on the phone. “Nope,” I say. Two seconds later, “Yep, now it is.”
  • Mileage: Five, maybe five and a half miles. All uphill. Of course.
  • Discovery: My brother thinks he looks like James Bond in a tux (he had his prom last night)
  • Media: The Jewel Maker, Tom Gallacher. Also KD Lang’s rendition of Hallelujah. I have no idea why.
  • Worst Thing: The ginormous amount of laundry I have to wash tomorrow.
  • Best Thing: My baby sis graduated college yesterday. And she wore her “big girl shoes” and didn’t even trip onstage! Go, sis.
  • Quote of the Day: “He’s friendly. Really. He just… doesn’t know what you’re doing down there.” Said by the woman whose dog was barking at me on the trail. Her tone implied that she didn’t quite know what I was doing down there either. (For the record, I was on my hands and knees taking pictures).
  • Word of the Day: Black bun. Me, when I fall down in the ditch and the mud. No, kidding. It’s food, actually. A kind of fruit cake, very rich, with raisins, currants, almonds, cinnamon and more.

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I looked online to try and find out what this is called, but no luck yet. I’ll have to get a book out of the library and see what it is.

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Spent much of the day walking and, joyfully, writing. I wonder if I could become a hermit? A Jodie Fosteresque/Nell style of hermit, though, with good hair and clear skin, and not the smelly and bearded kind of hermit that eats beans out of a can and shoots people on sight.

I am sinking back into the life that I love. It has the same rhythm as the ocean, as breath, as the pull of the moon. Rise. Walk. Write. Cook and clean. Answer emails or buy groceries. Write. Walk. Finish the evening with food and books and maybe, if my brain can handle it, a bit more writing.

I know it’s only for now. I know real life is going to come back to me in a few short months, but I’m not ready yet. I’ve got so much that I still want to do and see. And the closer, the slower, I look at things, the more layers there are. The more gorgeous everything becomes.

Far and fast, s.

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I love the way that everything’s made of old school materials. Rope. Wood. Wire. Stone.

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“There is nothing like walking to get the feel of a country. A fine landscape is like a piece of music; it must be taken at the right tempo.  Even a bicycle goes too fast.” ~Paul Scott Mowrer

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Responses

  1. That is a rhodedendron. Related to a thingummy – you know, an aaaaaaaaaaaaa.

    Azalea, that’s it. From the Himalayas, originally, I think, but now they’re all over the West of Scotland. Very pretty but quite pernicious, they poison the soil and tend to take over.

    Nearby Benmore Botanic Gardens have a whole collection of rhodedendrons: http://www.rbge.org.uk/the-gardens/benmore

    I’m so glad you’re enjoying your hermitude, S! x

  2. My little brother had his prom last night to, though I don’t believe he thinks he looks like Bond…. mostly because when he walked downstairs I (being the cruel older brother that I am) spent about five minutes telling him exactly what I thought of his shiny baby blue suit. Though trurth be told he looked pretty snazzy lol. And its good to hear that you’ve finally got yourself a rhythm you can love!

  3. A: Says it slow: Roe-do-den-drin. I think I knew that. At some point in my previous life. Thanks, A!

    Dakster: You are so cruel! I would never do that to my brother… wait…

  4. Rope, wood, wire and stone.

    And then there’s peat.

    they burn dirt to stay warm.

    • Hi, hi, Dean!

      So good to see you here! Oh, yes, the peat. I forgot about that… no wonder I’m also so dang cold 🙂


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