Ocean has beat against the beach of
my childhood, its weary fingers stealing
more and more of the soft silted sand,
grabbing at the estuaries and creeks of
the South Carolina Lowcountry, leaving
us with the detritus of old forests, battered
dunes, and bleeding loss.
~ The Memory of Water by Karen White
children scattered about I have
been left to my own devices
this long weekend.
A day spent too long at the
beach [really, is there such
a thing?] has left me with a
little too much sun so I decided
to take a break for a day.
I drove to the art store over an
hour away for more paints and
picked up some modeling paste
and new brushes to play with.
I was white knuckled by the time
I arrived due to the amount of
traffic and terrible drivers on
the road. Sometimes I wonder
just what people are thinking,
do they want to be in an accident?
I finished the little cardigan I
was knitting for Miss Addie and
am now working on a hat to
go with it.
I am hoping to make it back to
the shore tomorrow, read my
book and listen to the waves
and then come home and paint,
I'm working on a gift for
Christmas. Sorry Steph, but
there are only 214 days left. :)
Weekending with Karen.