Your beauty and love chase after me every day of my life. (Psalm 23:6 The Message)

“I dwell in possibility.” (Emily Dickinson)



It’s 2:08am and I can’t sleep. 

I feel like a hermit crab that has outgrown it’s found home, and must move into a bigger sphere lest it die.

Hermit crabs move out into bigger shells in order to grow. 

Later today, we will leave. I will drive the boat south on the ICW, while Les takes the truck and trailer to the boat ramp at Bing’s landing. There we will meet and take this shell of a home out of the water. 

We will drive many miles taking two days to return to our larger shell, and the space will feel foreign, yet familiar.

It will be like waking up in the middle of the night. It will take time to adjust our vision to see anew our home, our space to live and to breathe and to move.

Even before we leave here or arrive there, I know it will be different, yet the same. 

I’m not the same me that left seven weeks ago to embark on this adventure. An adventure that chased us more than we pursued it. An experience of a lifetime, but I think that every time we go towards new and different.

Can I capture this place to bring back with me? I already have. In experience, in photographs, in writings, in artifacts and souvenirs, in my soul, all this has been and will be part of me.

I am like the hermit crab that I found in the inlet.

 At first, I thought that I had picked up a beautiful shell for my collection. As I lifted it out of the water, I noticed movement. Something was living in the shell. I set the shell on the beach willing the crab to leave; I couldn’t bring myself to evacuate the crab from its home.

We watched while the crab struggled to lift its shell to get away from its captors. It managed to turn the shell enough to hide from us. I left in search of empty shells. 

Just before we left the inlet to go back to the marina, I set the shell back in the water. Releasing the hermit crab back into its environment, relieved that I didn’t  steal his home. Before I climbed into the boat, I looked for the shell. The tide had already carried the hermit crab away.

I am ready to leave. The tide will remain constantly ebbing and flowing here. The shoreline will change everyday, and if perchance, we return it will be familiar, yet foreign. 

Do this in remembrance of me. (Jesus, as quoted in Luke 22:19 NASB)

“It is nice finding that place where you can go and just relax.” (Moises Airas)

I find making collages out of magazine clippings very relaxing. I lose myself in the images and fitting the sizes, shapes and colors together in a pleasing and sometimes provoking way. The collage pages above include imagery, but also words and phrases and found “poems” emerge.

One of the found poems brought to mind the ongoing conversations I have with myself to relax.

relax. That’s the first thing;

I move around in my life.

It’s a way of being.

In some sense,

choices forced me

to realign my

perception of it.

Relaxation is a choice for me. I don’t relax naturally; I am always in motion. So collage, is a way for me to be still. Riding my bike is another way to be still, even while at the same time moving. I often try to soothe my soul by sitting in a quiet place, but even then my mind is wandering.

I mentioned in the last post that I am reading The Artist’s Way, and one of her tools for tapping into our creative stores is to set an artist’s date. Go out and do something fun and playful, not necessarily related to your artistic outlet. For me riding my bike, and finding a new place to explore fills that description. This past week, I got on my bike one morning, and headed toward the cafe that I kept noticing whenever we went into town for groceries. When you arrive, you walk into a courtyard, and then go inside to order. I chose to eat outside, since it was such a nice day. I had the whole vast, secluded garden area to myself. It was my found sanctuary for the day.

I met the couple who owns the cafe. The wife tends the gardens and the customers, while the husband cooks. On this day, he was trying his hand at making English muffins. I ordered one along with some scrambled eggs and coffee. The muffin was piping hot, as I pried it open with my fork. I placed the tab of butter inside to let it melt. When I picked it up to take a bite, communion found me. I thought of Jesus breaking bread, and asking his disciples to remember.

Do this in remembrance of me, echoed in my mind. I looked around at my serene surroundings. I remembered all the adventures of the past few weeks, the beach across the street, the restless need to snap beauty or capture a moon with my camera, the conversations with husband or strangers, and enjoying this place with our friends who came for a visit this past weekend. I recalled all the delicious meals, the refreshing breezes, and the calming presence of the created world crashing upon my soul, day after day. The rich text and textures that I was noticing, reading and experiencing. All this! Do this in remembrance of me. Do life in remembrance of me. Of me, the One who created. The One who made me with body, mind, emotions and spirit  to enjoy all this.

What is your “this” today?

There will be a shelter to give shade from the heat by day, and refuge and protection from the storm and the rain. (Isaiah 4:6 NASB)

“I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning to sale my ship.” (Louisa May Alcott)

Here are the latest stowaways! Most of them are related to art, or I will be using them in my collage works. 

I love this mini road atlas that I found in a booth at the flea market. The vendor gave it to me for free!

More resources for my artistic outlets.

I love maps, and I want to improve my lettering skills.

I found “vintage” art paper and a calendar with quaint illustrated floral arrangements. 

In my leisure time, I have been adding texture to my life through reading books and practicing art. These pursuits are like shade on a hot day and a refuge from the storms of life. I am so grateful for the gift of literacy; reading aids me in my ability to navigate this adventurous life.

The other day, I left my copy of The Artist’s Way on our “back porch” and it got drenched in the rain. It made me happy, because it gave it a well-used and well-loved look. And I can still read it. 

I’m working through it one week at a time. If you’ve never read it, it’s a great work on how to get unstuck from any lack of creativity or creative block you are experiencing in your life. I’m learning a lot about life from the text, as well as, how to tap into my created self.

Where do you find creative shade or spiritual refuge?

I am restless in my complaint and am surely distracted . . . (Psalm 55:2 NASB)

“Soon silence will have passed into legend. Man has turned his back on silence. Day after day he invents machines and devices that increase noise and distract humanity from the essence of life, concentration, meditation.” (Jean Arp)

The past few days I have been distracted. Distracted by what, you may wonder? Mostly by my inner world. The majority of my time here includes silence. I have my machines and my devices, but I use them in silence. Les works away at his laptop, fielding emails and phone calls for work. We talk intermittently throughout the day, passing information, asking each other what we want for lunch or dinner. Asking if one or the other of us fed the dog yet? Simple conversations. But most of our day is spent in silence, listening to the dredging of the basin during the day or the hoot of an owl at night. And the continual sound of either the wind or the surf plays on in the background.

As our time here draws to a close, the silence has become familiar. But not all is quiet inside my head. In there, I chide myself, thinking I should be “doing” more, “seeing” more, “documenting” more. And all of sudden the peace and serenity of being here becomes a chore, rather than a gift.

On Monday, I rode my bike into town, and finally visited the little coffee shop hidden behind a screen of tropical bushes and greenery, the gardens beckoned for me to come and sit awhile. (A little sanctuary, which I’ll tell you about in another post.) On my way back, I stopped at the beach to read for a while, and then headed back to the boat to have lunch with Les. After we chatted for a bit, I wrote in my journal, promising myself to ride my bike and go to the beach everyday, to fill each day with activity until we leave.

On Tuesday, I complained to Les that I was over ambitious. (I started pressuring myself to do something significant each day, instead of savoring each moment.) He chuckled, and suggested that maybe it wasn’t too ambitious, it was just unrealistic. I sighed in agreement. I chose to enjoy the slower pace, rather than filling in all the empty spaces.

I haven’t posted in a few days, not because the days have been uneventful or even uninteresting, but because I needed a break from documenting, and besides the place seemed to be shrinking for me. The rocks didn’t seem as immense. The debris from the hurricane had been disappearing into big dumpster trucks. The places to explore had narrowed, since I had done so much already. Familiarity robbed me of  my sense of adventure.

How many ways could I photograph the same objects that I walked past each day?

But yet, the I-beams continue to fascinate me, and the rocky shore shifts each day depending on the tide; it can be calm or spilling over with exuberance. And the lettuce seeds, which I planted in the colander from the thrift store have sprouted. (We might even get a little salad before we leave.) And the refrigerators lined up in the middle of the parking lot, who can forget those, taped shut for safety and lined up waiting for disposal. It seems like they have multiplied, as the surrounding buildings recover from the storm and begin the restoration process. One day, I noticed one of the doors had swung open, and inside, there was all the food left to rot and mold in the humidity and heat. (And it does give off a distinct odor, when the wind blows from a certain direction.) But that food just sitting there, begged me to take its picture. So I did.

Disparate beauty surrounds me. When I head back over to the beach, I tell myself just go, leave the devices behind, but something calls me to bring the camera or phone, just in case. I might need to chronicle something or capture a fresh angle of the rocks or I-beams. Or maybe a little bird clamoring for attention might want its photo taken.

What distracts you?

And how blessed all those in whom you live, whose lives become roads you travel.

They wind through lonesome valleys, come upon brooks, discover cool springs and pools brimming with rain!

God-traveled, these roads curve up the mountain, and at the last turn—Zion! 

God in full view!

(Psalm 84:5-7The Message)

Happiness often sneaks in a door that you didn’t know you left open. (John Barrymore)

Where do you find happiness? Does it have to be a sunny day or will a rainy day do? Can it be a noisy spot or a quiet cove? Do you need crowds or solitude? Do you find happiness or does it find you?

On Friday night, I wasn’t happy. Les had to work late. I didn’t feel like cooking and it looked like rain would keep us closed inside for the night. I was making escape plans.

To be happy, I thought I’d go get a nice air conditioned hotel room with cable TV and room service. I had to go into Orlando on Saturday afternoon for work training, and Les was going to be working on a project over the weekend. So why not? Maybe I’d just go see Mickey Mouse, that would make me happy, right?

While all those things could have made me happy, I decided to stay put. I vented to Les, which often helps me regain perspective. I appreciated his willingness to be a sounding board. He didn’t dismiss my ideas, nor did he stop me from my plans. 

More than escape, I wanted neither of us to have work obligations. But we did. To ease some of our stress, I drove to the little pizza shop nearby to get our dinner. I was able to special order one pizza with two different halfs. I watched the sunset, while I waited for the pizza. And the rain actually cooled things off for the rest of the evening.



On Saturday morning, the cooler temperature inspired me to get out the Omnia stove top oven. We ordered it, after hearing about it from another boater. I baked a gingerbread snack cake for our breakfast. 

This morning, I left early to check out the local flea market. It was overcast and rained a little, but it didn’t bother me, I was in my happy place. Searching for treasure in the various stalls and people watching was exactly what I needed today. 

I found the book stall, and bought a mystery I wanted to read. Some other stowaways jumped into my bag to bring home. I’ll have to introduce them in another post. 

At the produce section, I bought a bunch of bananas, a lemon and a lime and two cucumbers. I found some potential souvenirs and gifts for family and friends back home. 

Finding bargains and hunting for treasures makes me happy. I came home by lunchtime, ate my leftover pizza, and shared my finds with Les. By then the sun was back, so I went to the beach to read.