Thursday, June 19, 2008

Return to Freedom

The day before my foot surgery, I grabbed my chance at my last adventure before looong days of sitting around [sigh] recovering. So I hopped on my bike and criss-crossed and wove down the mountain with the wind in my hair to the beach.

These rocks lay on the margins of the ocean and create tidepools. Over time, the ocean has carved little holes (about the size of your fingertip) into the porous rock.

He's long gone, but his shell still ponders in the tidepools.

Wild mangoes.
Average roadside banyan.

This very white guy (haole as we say :) learned to make these traditional palm baskets from Hawaiian elders because he... well, really wanted to know how to do it. He told me they last for 70 years once dried out.

A tourist couple stopped while we were chatting, and the wife asked for a flower on her basket. So he made one right in front of us.

I find there is beauty in the patterns of nature and people and life. Like breathing.

My cast comes off tomorrow.

No comments:

To write is to dare the soul. So write.