In the Material World

Dawn this morning showed the thinnest sliver of waning moon over a rising tide, and the rumble of traffic on the Richmond Bridge through some trick of the wind. The frogs are in full chorus too, so I can only think they are in the freshwater puddle/lake on the far side of the inlet.

I was talking with Norma on Skype yesterday, she on her loggia with a roar of cicadas behind her, me with my frogs. What a world we live in!

There are other seasonal and more than seasonal changes too - the seawall has slipped to such an extent that there is now a bank a good ten feet further out into the bay, and several sections where we walk are noticeably lower. Yesterday at low tide we scrambled down and found such wonderful weathered logs from some ancient tree down there I was kicking myself once again for not bringing a camera. As we walked back the sun broke through to highlight chosen sections of the far hills so that suddenly a glowing green hillside would appear like the Promised Land, or sails would glow on the dull water.

I railed unforgivably the other day about how dull and suburban Marin could be, and I was wrong. The people may be unimaginative, but the setting is absolutely breath-taking.

I am reading Lawrence Durrell, not my favorite author but he slips down well enough, and his sour rantings against living in England are as unfair as mine here - there are plenty of people living in sacred enthrallment with their gardens and fields and woods in England, just as he was in Corfu. They must exist in Marin too, but how do I find them?