It's always beautiful at Caspersen Beach in Venice, Florida. I've experienced the beauty there many times since moving to the Gulf Coast almost four years ago. I have often said it feels to me like I'm walking in a watercolor painting when I'm there. Yesterday I had the same visual feast as I usually do, but it was the sounds, and my hearing, that awakened more fully during my walk.
Perhaps it was because only a scattering of humans were there. It's off-season here, and it was dinner time. I had just rushed downtown to the post office to get the day's Heartful Art orders in the mail before closing. As I left the post office and got into the van I love so much, I felt especially free and happy from the day's work. As I asked myself, where should I go from here, I remembered I still needed to get my daily walk in, so I decided to go the extra couple of miles to Caspersen.
It must have been dragonfly dinnertime too. As I drove on the road to the beach, a million dragonflies swarmed all around my van. I happen to love dragonflies, so I slowed way down to 10 mph so I wouldn't harm them in their frenzied flight. It was an awesome sight.
After parking and leaving my shoes in the van, I found my way to the beach. The quietness was evident right away. The surf was calm; the waves gently lapped the shore. No wind or crashing water this time. As I walked, I enjoyed the shore birds feeding; witnessed pelicans diving for fish with power, beauty, and graceful accuracy; and noticed egrets intently focused on the water around the moss-covered rocks on which they were perched.
I listened as I walked, and as I did my senses awakened even further. I heard the sound water makes as it sifts thru shells and fine sand as the surf moves out from shore. Like a subtle tinkling of a percussive musical instrument of some kind that I couldn't identify. I walked through nature's artwork that is Caspersen Beach and was treated as well to nature's concerto.
Filled with appreciation for the ability to see and hear these beautiful things, I completed my time on the beach, which felt more like a meditation than exercise. Actually, it was both. I walked on the shell-strewn sand toward where my van was parked. After brushing the sand from my feet, and putting on my shoes, I drove again on the beach road. I watched for the dragonflies, but they had settled down and had pretty much finished their snacking. Nighttime. Time for home.
- Raphaella Vaisseau
Perhaps it was because only a scattering of humans were there. It's off-season here, and it was dinner time. I had just rushed downtown to the post office to get the day's Heartful Art orders in the mail before closing. As I left the post office and got into the van I love so much, I felt especially free and happy from the day's work. As I asked myself, where should I go from here, I remembered I still needed to get my daily walk in, so I decided to go the extra couple of miles to Caspersen.
It must have been dragonfly dinnertime too. As I drove on the road to the beach, a million dragonflies swarmed all around my van. I happen to love dragonflies, so I slowed way down to 10 mph so I wouldn't harm them in their frenzied flight. It was an awesome sight.
After parking and leaving my shoes in the van, I found my way to the beach. The quietness was evident right away. The surf was calm; the waves gently lapped the shore. No wind or crashing water this time. As I walked, I enjoyed the shore birds feeding; witnessed pelicans diving for fish with power, beauty, and graceful accuracy; and noticed egrets intently focused on the water around the moss-covered rocks on which they were perched.
I listened as I walked, and as I did my senses awakened even further. I heard the sound water makes as it sifts thru shells and fine sand as the surf moves out from shore. Like a subtle tinkling of a percussive musical instrument of some kind that I couldn't identify. I walked through nature's artwork that is Caspersen Beach and was treated as well to nature's concerto.
Filled with appreciation for the ability to see and hear these beautiful things, I completed my time on the beach, which felt more like a meditation than exercise. Actually, it was both. I walked on the shell-strewn sand toward where my van was parked. After brushing the sand from my feet, and putting on my shoes, I drove again on the beach road. I watched for the dragonflies, but they had settled down and had pretty much finished their snacking. Nighttime. Time for home.
- Raphaella Vaisseau
