The morning in this photo follows a night of.  (There goes that dysphasia again.)   It was a night of thunder and lightning.  (Dysphasia = I am thinking.  It is not a disorder but an experience of being deeply engaged with the world around me, which requires my understanding that I am not the center of the world but a part of it.  This is not a political statement, except that it is.)  The night of thunder and lightning precluded my being at the turtle nest where the eggs are due to hatch within the next few days.  Electrocution does not appeal to me.

Back to the morning in this photo, though.  Into it walked myriad fisherpeople with their little wagons of fish food and human snacks and possibly beer.  Into it walked the Mormons and their bazillion relatives in solar-safe swimwear that might have passed for burqinis--except.  They're Mormons.  They read from a different book that reads metaphor as literal truth. It's interesting that competing mythologies strive for the same goals--the repression of women, the conquest of the world--with the same sad results.  Into it walked the birds who sing in the holly bush that is home to snakes and muskrats and birds.

Go  to the beach.  Build castles.  Stay past dark.  Wake up there.  Understand that in the big cosmic picture, you don't count for beans.  And then have some fun.

Skywatch Friday