WeatherSystems

Dearest Annabelle,

In response to your request for an insight to my latest travels, I offer the following. My excursion to the wild ocean beach near Lake Ozette was most enjoyable and somewhat mystical as well. Hiking through the dense rain forest left me on edge at each turn of the trail. The placement of tall evergreen trees, their dense canopy overhead played games with my mind. I envisioned prehistoric raptors or such creatures running through the dark green ferns drooling mouths wide open set to pounce upon me. It was a long three miles to the open expanse of the wind swept beach. Once setting foot upon the coarse sand I could see my extension of the journey before me. Rocks, large and small and storm laden driftwood logs strewn hither and tho’ would make for a challenging walk. Raptors of a more common sight soared overhead watching my every movement. With the tide out treasures galore were exposed for my viewing. Sea creatures of every kind beckoned my calling in the rocky tide pools. About half way traveling northward I came to rest upon a once giant tree and set myself down for a spell. Solitude yes, boredom no. I could almost hear the haunting cries of ancient Indian warriors in their long boats trekking the surf. Petrogryphs of centuries gone by were on the face of large basalt rocks giving one insight of days long ago. The Indian village once robust and active was buried some 300 years ago by a large mud flow. Those inhabitants walk the beach on such hollowed nights arising from the misty depths of the sea. This day bright and sunny could only offer faint echoes from the forest edge. A bald eagle perched on a snag above me were the eyes of the ancient people that allowed me to share their space in time. Proceeding to the northern trail head and then back through the dense forest left me with a strange feeling of abandonment. I was not alone this day for sure but escorted by ghastly spirits that will walk the desolated beach forever.

Warmest regards,

William

Imagine an encounter with Nymbol in his secret garden. Nymbol is, well Nymbol and I am told a anatomically correct character. And with that you'll have to take my word. Another place in time, another thought in my mind, and yet another rare find. His eyes cast a spell upon your gaze bringing you into a surprisingly misty haze. A tear of joy you will find as you enter his gate but don't be surprised if you return home very late. His world is imagination in swing not forthcoming what it will bring. But this I will say, returning yet another day for what will be a very pleasant stay. Yes,this is Imagination 101 on First Street in Langley by the sea.

Dearest Emily,

The cones on the bough were laden with dew hanging so delicately in the early morning chill. The aroma of cedar filled my nostrils as I passed under the giant tree reminding me of the burning incense in your parlor. The fog so gingerly floating just feet above the dampened earth reminds me of the enchantment when we are together. The rising sun casts its rays above the eastern horizon and into my eyes bringing you yet further into my mind. A new day was dawning bringing us yet closer to our engagement in two days forth. As night gives way to a new found day, I give you these thoughts from my pen.

Most fondly and awaiting our time together,
Sir Constance

If one listens very intently, you can hear the whispers of the ocean through a lonely seashell. The depths of the sea have many tales to tell and speak to those that seek the mystical encounters of times gone by. Close your eyes and imagine as the wind beckons your calling. The hint of sea mist upon your skin, the goosebumps dancing on your cold skin. You stand there shivering in the breeze and entrained in the fantasy of the deep blue sea. Way oh, way oh . . . .

My dear Tasha,

The crab tacos on the boardwalk were superb! Not having dined at this off the wall Mexican eatery, I really didn’t know what to expect, your suggestion was a good choice. The weather was fine and the pleasure of your company was sublime. Our chuckles when you dripped sauce on your blouse and giggles over a bottle of ‘real’ Coca Cola from south of the border.  Dessert at the Confectionary Shoppe next door was a treat with the taste of fancy chocolates. The day couldn’t have been better, you and me, sunshine and of course now sweet memories with this letter. Desiring to see you soon and do it all over again, this time perhaps under the moon.

Your friend,

Tim

I look out to the sea to which is calling me,

Golden rays of sunlight, filtered through layers of glistening clouds are in my sight.

The wind is still as I walk upon the sand against my parting will.

My spirit ever so slow drifts over the aqua waters and into the depths below.

Chills caress me to the bone with a feeling of being all alone.

Pondering the moment I close my eyes I am relived and let out a big sigh.

This world where I dwell has so many stories to tell.

Listen to nature, let time stand still and let the earth feel your stature.

 

 

 

It was an honor making your acquaintance at the funeral parlor late Saturday afternoon. What wonderful stories you could tell, and how enraptured was the small audience in attendance, so that it was to my grand amusement that afterward the body was forgotten - indeed the coach later arrived at the burial yard without the benefit of the body! Perhaps sometime in the future I will have the pleasure of seeing you again. In the meanwhile, I've sent along a picture postcard bearing my likeness. It is my estimation that you would like to have a glimpse of it.

Natalie ~



 

Natalie my darling,
It was so charming to have the honor of your presence at Saturday’s wake. And the memories of the mind were quite pleasant, entertaining and well expressed to the delight of the other guests. Alas, being caught up in the moment did present a bit of a problem laying the poor soul at rest. What a pity. The picture postcard bares your likeness very kindly and perhaps we can meet once again at Months Mind and toast a vessel with one another to the dearly departed. Henceforth my sincere desire to be in your presence and charm will enlighten the days with a flickering candlelight of ecstasy and exaltation.

Thomas ~

It was about six weeks ago I had a dream while in a deep slumber in the wee hours of the night. I was somewhere I do not remember perhaps in a land of unknown origins. A sense of urgency came over me and this little old lady appeared before me huddled over and with a most dreary look upon her face. She handed me a box and told me to keep it in my possession and give to no one. Then she disappeared and I was off in another scene which to my disgust, I have since forgotten as is the case of many of our subconscious nocturnal encounters. I had forgotten about this until the most amazing thing came to be last week. I was outside a gift shop at the beach and for some strange reason was drawn a few feet away to where an old antique store was located near the back parking lot. It was filled with a myriad of old retro stuff from the 1930’s, 40’s, 50’s and 60’s. I made my way along the storefront peering in at the windows with no intent to enter within. As I came to the last array of cluttered and water stained windows, my eyes went to a curio cabinet behind a post where a partial view of a most interesting wooden box was resting. My mind flashed back to my dream six weeks hence and I thought “could this be?” I rushed inside and made my way through an endless maze of pathways bordered with clutter to the tall glass cabinet. To my wonder was this the same box that appeared in my dream given to me by the old woman? I stood there in a short daze while at the same time retrieving the item from its dusty loft. Of course I made the purchase and it is now residing upon my desktop. I have spent a bit of time gazing at the box, feeling its contours and rough carvings of the sun, moon and stars. An old tattered hand written paper note inside said “Handcrafted in South Africa”. It is indeed a curio box of sorts in more ways than one. I was in that antique shop about a year and a half ago browsing and amusing myself reflecting back on some of my childhood paraphernalia. Could it have been that I saw this box and it entered some small fold in my brain and was finally summoned to play a part in such a fantasy dream? Or was it the dream in some unconscious state that led me to the box. The fate of this encounter perhaps will never be known or maybe, just maybe revealed yet further in some distant episode in the wide world of dreams. Meanwhile, my guess is that I am the ‘keeper’ of the box.

I accept your outstretched hand most gracefully entering the solitude of the elegant ballroom reserved for just you and me. My eyes close to the slumber of your lullaby, my senses awaken and the rhapsody of your touch enters deep within my soul. I see a rainbow of colors through glistening eyes and feel the soft embrace like a gentle breeze that only you can provide. The invitation was there and worldly elements floating away as a quiet resolve settled upon the moment. My world, my time, your being.

"I do not go to the beach to hear the crashing of the surf,
to feel the sand beneath my feet instead of turf,
or to breathe in the wholesome fresh air;
I go to the beach simply because it is there."
-Pat Timm September, 2009.