Spring tide
DECEMBER 13, 2008
The very large, orange full moon arose from the mountains last night. Absolutely stunning. I'm sitting here staring at the same place in the day time. Natalia keeps seeing things like this and saying aloud, "Is this real?" Funny how the experiences we seek and succeed in make us less sensitive to certain things, or I guess it's that I suspect nothing less from nature and I know exactly how amazing it is in every instance.
I awoke this morning to the lowest tide yet (see: spring tide). Sandbars were beginning to show and the surf wasn't breaking close to the beach like it normally would. It seemed like the waves weren't even reaching the beach, slowing their momentum over the vast distance and lazily pooling around the rocks near the shore without disruption. This phenomenon is clearly from the new proximity of the moon. It gives me great joy to experience such occurrences as this. I had a new hatchling to release in the shallows and I was excited to see it swim. We've never really seen this before, as every time we release babies, they are quickly consumed by the surf and their struggle to swim out to sea and obtain air must be dreadful. I watched it crawl across the sand to the tiny laps of water. Head first like any reptile making its first descent. It was clumsy, wobbly, uncoordinated at first. But it didn't take it long before it was balancing in the water alright; horizontal, small lungs needing breath every 4 seconds or so. I watched it all the way until the waves were visibly rolling on the surface and tiny, circular wave pools were spinning it around righteously and slingshotting it further out to sea.
Natalia came down earlier, during the release, walking a foot or two in front of it and commenting on the low tide. Maybe she saw it. Maybe she didn't, but it was her one opportunity to see it swim and I didn't say anything. She wasn't paying attention. She missed it, and it was beautiful. I felt selfish, not saying anything. For some reason, I wanted to keep it to myself as I thought, 'is this real? Am I really here witnessing any of this at all? Am I really living on this isolated beach? Do I really get to lay in hammocks tied to palm trees
[Movie: ratatouille]
While listening to the surf and staring up at the brilliantly blue sky and watching flocks of brown pelicans migrate from one beach to the other? Am I really in Costa Rica saving sea turtles? Wow!' 'Wow' is all that I can think.
They say appreciation comes later...
Comments