A Castle Made of Sand?

Just a couple steps to the end of the earth...

It was Sunday.  The Sunday following Thanksgiving.  I make a point of reminding myself what the holiday is all about no matter how much I have to do that weekend.  The food, family, friends and gratitude make this holiday special, and I never let a Thanksgiving pass without pausing to focus on its true, celebrated meaning.

It was a gorgeous day.  Clear.  Bright.  Just beautiful.  I heard the call to "come out and play" despite piles of dishes sitting in the kitchen and this week's "to do" list growing louder in my head.

Fighting the urge to be swallowed up by my responsibilities, I threw on my sweats and grabbed my beach bag in a fit of "I won't give in" and burn this day.  A gift.  "I'm coming!"  I fumbled for the car keys.

As soon as I arrived in my favorite parking spot by the sea, I knew that I was in the right place.  My breathing slowed.  I inhaled deeply.  The pounding in my chest subsided and I felt the relief of a good decision.   Satisfied in my choice.  Knowing I was meant to be "here".  This moment. 

I'd walked this path a million times before.  I'd ridden my bike here through every possible condition.  Days like this...and days of torrential downpours.  Days with warm breezes from the south...and days that winds howled from the north and clouds unloaded icy buckets of driving, brutal lashes.  Liquid sting.

There were times warmth enveloped the coast and embraced the steep cliffs, and there were times the monstrous cliffs were invisible in a shroud of clouds and a curtain of water.

I treasured days I eased along the path nudged by a zephyr from the south as much as I cherished my memories of days when arctic rain poured down from my forehead, blinded me, and I licked the salty precipitation from my lips.  I would be the only one out in the storm.  Alone.  Safe to talk to her.  I'd smile and say, "Yes.  I'm here to see your other side.  Show me what you're made of.  Give me all you've got.  I'm here to experience your beauty...and your power."

A perfect storm.

Today was not that day.  She was showing me her glowing, brilliant beauty.

I walked along the path to find my opening to the sea.  I crunched my way to the top of the cliff and found my footing over the rocky slope.  I slipped and skid down the stony decline a bit and smiled at Mother Nature's work.  Her weather patterns may change in an instant but her stone artistry shows a patient, persistent, gentle hand sculpting intricate scenes as well:  massive cliffs giving way to pebbles and the final tapestry of all her work.  Rocks, shells, and fossils her media.  Sand her masterpiece.

My last few steps were at a run.  She forced me to keep pace.  The drop to sea level was steep.

The stretch of sand was surprisingly desolate.  Black Friday leading to Cyber Monday?  Was I the only one not heeding that call?

The sand at the water's edge was smooth.  The tide was out, and if humanity was too, they weren't here.  I walked about a mile along the soft, pristine surface.  There were a few broken clam and crab shells, but not many.  Frankly, it was strange.  Often, the waves brought lots of clues to the mysteries under the sea.  Sand dollars, shells, crab, kelp, jellyfish, and cypress driftwood are often scattered along the frothy border of her ever-changing hemline.  Sometimes, she seemed to cough, choke and spew the debris of careless people.  Today, she was privately shielding her innermost mystery.  It was as if she held a secret?

I smiled and lifted my chin to feel the warmth of this November sun.  No headphones.  The waves were rhythmic and I wanted to appreciate the regularity with which they rolled to shore today.  Some days the ocean roared like an unruly, angry crowd and her tides seemed to have no rhyme or reason and ripped from any and every direction.  (A lot like all of us). Today, the sea seemed satisfied with a fulfilling holiday, too. But, I sensed she held a surprise. In any case, I continued along the edge...where ocean and land hold their daily dance.

There was something in the sand ahead.  The mighty ocean rolled in on my right, and one, small shadowy object lay on the sand canvas a few steps away.  To my left.

Castle is enlarged to show texture.  Kidding.
Actually, I was disappointed.  In my disbelief,
I lifted the sculpted rock and removed it from
its natural state -- so this is my feeble, quick attempt
at sharing the castle and the story.
Isn't it incredible!?

Like the day, it was beautiful.  Sculpted.  Perfection.

Tells you something.  I thought it was "man-made".  Assembled by a familiar hand.  A sand castle.  Small.  About 4 inches high.  Maybe 5 wide.  Alone.  Nothing else around it for yards.  It reminded me of something made from "Silly Sand".  Dripping wet, saturated sand from a fist held above -- about a foot from the top of the creation.  A childhood art.  Maybe you remember it?

I touched it with my toe.

I couldn't believe it.  It was a ROCK.  It was a ROCK.  Resting in the only way it COULD have been resting to even "see" the castle it so obviously was.  If that rock had rolled from the sea and come to lay on the sand in ANY other position, it would have been "the castle that never existed".  A rather brown, drab ROCK.

Mother Nature's miniature castle.  There she stood.  From the power and strength of the cliffs and oceans to the delicate, intricate little sweet castle.  She seemed to laugh and say, "Forever, you all try to emulate me.  I've been able to mimic you, too.  And, by the way, thanks for dropping by!"

She called.  I listened.  She had a miracle to reveal.  She worked a long time to make her gift.  For that, I am so very grateful.  Thank you, Glorious Mother Nature. Happy Thanksgiving to YOU, too!