Went this morning to water the seeds on the steep bank above the riffle secured by jute netting and covered with a light layer of compost. After that took out the paddle board, as I’d been resolving to do for some time, carried it and a paddle and a pole saw down to the beach, along with my phone sealed up in the cookie container. Water and air were calm. Paddled slowly to the top of the long pool below the log seating area, where, as before there was a minor blockage of twigs, a log, and some caught up trash. Tried to clear them, but didnt feel the stamina to portage over the bank to the next pool upstream, which I saw was full of small patches of algae. Worked vigorously to cut and move the brush (without power tools, yuck) and to free the flow, quicken the current above and below and hopefully flush the algae out.
Back home I lunched and napped and did a little housework while Jan prepared for the dinner gathering tonight. After researching cannabis in copenhagen and discovering the difficulty of finding it since the demolition of “pusher’s alley,” I took up another long delayed obligation: to try out the tablet form cannabis edibles I’d bought for our trip in 2023 to determine if they were still good.
I lay down again and put in earbuds and started the Beethoven Adagios collection, which sounded as if I was stoned. After an hour I walked the dog to the creek, experiencing heightened colors and sensations. There I tried out a number of sit spots, though the wind was blowing wildly.
I saw two things at the edge of perception I’d not encountered before: beside the rifflepool, sheltered from the turmoil above, I saw tiny points of light floating downstream at a steady pace. As soon as I took notice of an individual, it would blink out. I concluded that these were little sun magnifiers produced by reflective cups of the water’s surface tension formed around miniscule floating particles–bugs, blossoms, flotsam.
Afterwards, sitting on the eucalyptus log near the Water Shed out in the wind , I watched two red tailed hawks flying high. Then coming from the housing development I saw a flock of tiny purple birds, or maybe large insects, wavily making their way in my direction. As I stared, the body of the flock sent out elongated arms in which I could still see tiny purple creatures. And then suddenly they disappeared, but not before I could tell that they were actually shreds of cloud–separate drops or droplets blown by the wind from the west and dissipating on their way over the creek and approaching the farmland.
