One line of thought suggests that in evolutionary terms, when we moved from sheltered forests to exposed African savannahs, we may have lost our fur as an adaptation to aid in heat regulation
But another line of thought entertains the notion that we very nearly returned to the sea like our mammal brethren – whales and dolphins – during some kind of aquatic ape stage. This would explain also why we cry salty tears and have a mostly dormant diving reflex – and also why I resemble Shamu when I try on wetsuits.
Maybe it also explains why the ocean is such a big vacation destination. Maybe in a way, going to the ocean is like going home.
Perhaps ancestral memories stir in the corridors of our subconscious and whisper of fantastic seafood smorgasbords...
... a magical place where we chase after animals that - it turns out - don’t have legs.
Did people ever really believe that the world was flat?
I wonder because when you see the sun sink below the horizon in the west, you have to wonder how it gets back to the east by morning. And what would the edge of the world look like? What would keep the water from running off? And wouldn’t people have noticed that the moon wasn’t flat, that it had dimension to it, and shading, like a round rock?
I wish I hadn’t been told that the world was round because I think I would have received a great deal of satisfaction if I could have pondered it for a while and figured it out myself.
Some twelve hours later… moonset.
With the return of light, the ghost-shift makes way for tangible birds
…and evening’s nightmare trees are frozen in place - harmless
In a continuing campaign to conquer the earth, the ocean launches phalanx after phalanx in the first assault of a daily two-pronged strategy.
Aquatic monkeys find opportunities to play…
I saw this flower on Cannon beach, right about where the big haystack stands. Later, I found more of them at Hug Point, evidently part of the same bunch. Finally I found a bold message lying in the sand. It was spelled out in round pebbles - a command that said, ‘MARRY ME’.
Maybe it should have been a question?
A creek/river cuts its way to the ocean.
Looking southward across the expanse of Seaside Beach. In the background, Tillamook Head juts into the ocean.
There’s a kind of a river that cuts north through Seaside and then heads west toward the ocean just before it gets to Gearhart. I followed it to the edge of the ocean and watched it argue with the incoming tide for a time.
All the while, in the back of my mind, I kept picturing this ubiquitous warning sign.
In case of earthquake, I realized this would pretty much be the last thing I ever saw.
The full moon vies for attention at the Seaside community late Thanksgiving/Early Christmas parade.