Good Morning!
The fog is wet today, enveloping and yet it is clear enough I can see across the valley, though not to the top of the ridge. The plants, ground, and I are grateful for the moisture. I hear a Muir Woods call. If we begin to get some rain, the creek will break through to the ocean, and maybe this year the salmon will come.
Yesterday Zach and I again went to the bay and saw a dead seal and a dead cormorant. We sat by the seal a long time. It was almost in two parts and was missing its head. There were holes and Zach was fascinated to peer inside. The bees and flies were going in and out. I made an attempt last week to explain life and death, since we had crabs that tickled, scampering across our hands and then, those that were still, but I could see yesterday that I had conveyed no concept of life and death, and after sitting there with Zach, watching all the activity around the seal and considering the openings which seemed quite exciting and refreshing and there was no smell, and though I talked about the elements and breaking down and recycling, which reminded Zach of the garbage truck, yet, somehow caught in his fascination, non-judgment and acceptance of the event, and awareness that the seal would go back to the sea when the tide came in, assuming there was something left, somehow I took on Zach's viewpoint. There is no death. It felt so clear as we sat there, hand in hand, and he listened to my made-up song about the seal, it was so clear that there is no death, and the clouds were dark, and there was one hole, for the sun, that was like an eye, and Zach said that's where the rocket ships pop through and then he asked what was on the other side.