marty and dayle saw an eagle today, soaring above the river just out of my line of sight. so they described what they saw in minute detail as the gulls cleared out of the way and it dove into the water and climbed again with something in its talons. i hope it wasn't a duck!
when we first met dayle and elizabeth, 30 years ago, we lived on the same stream, mark west creek in sonoma county. for a time there was a pair of golden eagles who were also neighbors and when one flew overhead it seemed the whole yard went dark, such was their wingspan. we had just gotten a puppy, molly bear, and were advised to keep her inside when they were cruising the hood and stick close to her whenever she went out. we also had 2 young cats, nicholas and alexandra, and not long after these gorgeous, brutal creatures showed up, lexi disappeared. poor nick searched for her for days, calling until he was hoarse.
this is why the hebrew word for awe means both wonder and fear, equally: the eagle today was the first we've seen here since last summer when we arrived; it was thrilling, it felt like a blessing and a good omen. and yet...the way all the other birds scattered when it rolled in, and for whomever it lifted from the river, it meant only terror and death - a vivid reminder of how random fate is and how so, so much is out of an individual's control.
from bed i can see into the living room and out to the river through four of the floor to ceiling windows. from our living room you get the complete panoramic view, through floor to ceiling windows across the the whole back of the house and around on both sides. sometimes i can hang out on the sofa and see nearly everything, or spend a little time in ronny foxy baby, my power chair and see it all. mostly i'm in bed and rely on marty and friends to describe the children on the bridge, the geese around the bend or the first eagle of our tenancy. vicarious sighting. indirect vision. there are many ways to see.
Life on the Salt Marsh is a journal of what i am learning and experiencing in this breathtakingly beautiful place, where the Dyer and Sheepscot, both tidal rivers, meet and merge.
Sweet Last Days of Summer
Author
- Rev. Mary
- Midcoast Maine
- Rev. Mary is a Unitarian Universalist minister who served congregations in San Francisco, Sonoma County, Houston, Marblehead and Winchester MA, and New Orleans, in a variety of ways. She is President and co-founder of Gulf Coast Volunteers for the Long Haul and has led 14 service trips to Louisiana and Mississippi since a few weeks post-Katrina. She has 3 children, Sam, 22, Julia, 26, and Jason, 41, and the best spouse in the universe, Marty. She was diagnosed with ALS/Lou Gehrig's disease in 2006. Rev. Mary can be reached at duckdreams at gmail.com. Due to her illness her ability to reply is unlikely but she would enjoy hearing from you if that's OK.
From Mary's Journal in December
after simple surgery turned into a nightmare: "the pain has been excruciating and for 3 days was unrelenting, even breathing was an agony. i tried to picture our mallard in maine who i studied one day when it was freezing cold, windy, pouring down rain and he was in his spot in the grass all tucked up and i tried to imagine how he could handle the elements. i decided he must go very deep inside and have duck dreams. so i tried to emulate him."