Snow berries and seals.
Their memory woke me at 4am this morning
I witnessed them both yesterday, with my husband, Josh, at Blakely Harbor
We walked the trails around the harbor, Josh studying the shore, looking landward, while my eyes drifted out over the water, both of us catching glimpses of visiting ducks, their small bodies feather-full, their tiny beating hearts carrying them along over brackish water darkened by recent heavy rains, their minds on food below the surface
A band of pale blue sky to the East over Seattle held strong between fuzzy edged bands of thick clouds above and below, as we walked among wet ferns and naked trees strung with red berries and snow berries, and lime green moss growing with abandon over any and all available tree and log
The edges of branches took their rightful place, silhouetted in veins of brown and black against the darkening sky, intersecting time and space and leaving room for dreams between each cold twig
In winter the trees and shrubs find themselves unburdened by the weight of summer leaves, the creatures of the shore and sea also receiving a reprieve from frolicking, paddling, boat busy humans
The high tide flooded in over sea grass as we made our way to the cement box shell of a building, coated with years upon years of graffiti, where DYI skate ramps were carefully set between oblong rectangular wells now filling up with flotsam from the bay, aluminum cans and bits of garbage
The art and makeshift ramps drew a smile across my face, thinking of our skateboarding, art-full sons, wondering if they too left their marks here, road these ramps
Rainbows of spray paint covered every reachable surface, beautiful seen as one work of art, a collaboration of time and thoughts, hidden stories shining through the high-ceilinged space
Through small holes in the wall I peered out at the harbor, searching for signs of seals and water birds, feeling like a little girl again for a moment, peering out from a hiding place to spy on the big world outside
We clambered down the makeshift ladder, an old crate, and headed for the bridge
We stopped halfway across, and looked towards Seattle, where the tall buildings were just visible around the north corner of the harbor
In the foreground, my eyes spotted one sleek head, then two, then a third appear upon the quiet water
Seal time had begun, and I sighed as I pointed them out to Josh
If only my recoil from the cold would subside and I could find my way back in—maybe tomorrow
I gazed down into the water below the bridge, then back out towards the seals, willing them to swim below us, wishing for a blubber-lined body and underwater lungs to join this trio
Another week has ticked by and I find myself on dry land or at the local pool, where stranger-friends await, pulling through easy warm water with me
I love the swims but miss the rocky view, the immense space, the absence of walls
But what is good is all of this
I am thankful for all of this
A walk with Josh among the snow berries, quiet rain followed by tiny white snow berry hail from the sky, our quickening step, the vision of two little boys in the wet sand, digging a hole, flinging sand behind them like puppies, like our sons once did, completely absorbed, and us witness to so much joy and peace and beauty beside the sea
In winter the light does get through and how I love seeing the edges of things
And all the while I am storing up thoughts and dreams this winter, including reveries of swimming in the Salish Sea, trying to let go of “should” and just be
Present
Eyes wide open
There is so much to bear witness to, so much beauty, even on these darkest days, to wake up for, celebrate and share with each other
On land and in the sea, and perhaps most of all in the space between.
Mary Swims 