July 31 at 9:26am

Robert Moses Report:

The husband changed his mind regarding a beach walk this morning. I was later than usual because I stopped to write a letter before leaving. I tossed a thermal shirt on the passenger seat and wondered if I would actually brave the water this morning. Too late to find deer, I headed for my usual haunt.

A few humans for company, some wrapped in blankets, all in lawnchairs and sipping coffee. I straddled a sand cliff to reach surf and walked right in. The first few waves were indeed frigid. I found an underwater cliff where stones and shells apparently go to socialize. When the water began to feel warm, I knew it was time to head home. Just after the turnaround, but before the hump-back bridge, between Prius and guard rail was a doe looking undecided. Would she bound into the brush or in front of me toward the grazing field beneath the tower? I put on the hazards and gave her a chance to think about it. She crossed in front of me, then sharp left, walked down the side of the nose of my car, looked in the driver's side window and stared. How close? How long? This close and this long: when did I forget that deer have long, blonde whiskers sprouting from their chins?????? Those sweet eyes I did not forget, but I don't recall ever being able to gaze so silently or for so long. Robert, I think you and I are in this for the long haul!

http://www.1adventure.com/archives/images/oldie-whitetail-deer-face.jpg
http://www.1adventure.com/

7/29/10 9:38am

Robert Moses Report

This morning the beach was like no other. Two deer to greet me off the parkway were proceeded by one red-tail hawk on the Southern State. One is on the low side of quantity, but he still made me smile. Two more deer down the road; one young male with velvety antlers and one female with a misshapen ear that made her look more like a bounding puppy. The toll booth teenagers weren’t at their posts 'tho it was long after 6. I read a chapter of Lindberg’s Gift from the Sea and wrote a letter before I ever got out of the car. The beach was empty, and a look skyward made me think lightening was a given. I looked for red flags, there were none, but maybe there was no one to stake them. The beach, aside from being empty, looked like it was someplace else. There were cliffs between surf and sand and I thought it might be impossible to get to the water. I found one anyway. Looking again at the sky, I tried to guess how long before this would become dangerous. I shrugged and decided I didn’t care. Looking up and down the beach, I wondered if I had ever before been the only one on the edge as far as I could see before. I started my walk east and allowed the waves to get me as wet as they wished. At some point, I realized I had company and turned back, but not before noticing that the gifts the sea yielded were also different. Too many tiny ghost-white crabs to count, and just as plentiful black seaweed pods* that have the look of something from Star Wars littered the sand like so many H’s. I have no idea what those are called. I have no idea how to find out. [Later: husband says these are stingray eggs. A google image search tells me he is correct.]

July 25 at 8:29am

Robert Moses Report

Drove to the Catskills and back yesterday. Left by 7am; home just after midnight. Was awake all night---nearing morning I set time aside for the re-reading of letters between Chris and I eight years ago today.... and found my pillow after 5 am. Woke an hour later to play limo driver to the working boy. Headed for the beach. Turned around the tower to find an adolescent buck (three pointer), two does; one nursing twin fawns. Walked further than the prescribed length of beach, pocketed some gifts from the sea and turned toward home. Oh, ...too many rabbits to count, unidentifiable (at least by me) heart shaped bird tracks, dragon flies the size of footballs, it seemed. And now that deeply relaxed feeling that follows every trip to the sand and shore for me!

July 21, 2010 9:53am

I had a date with Robert Moses this morning. I've been a teacher for 25 years, stopped working summers after number seventeen, I think, and have been stringing him along ever since... promising him daily early morning walks. But not this morning. I was at the tower turnaround before 7 am. Two deer and a rabbit were feeding on that patch of ground under it. When I parked my car, I wondered what that roar was, exactly. It couldn't be... but it WAS... in that early morning uber-quiet, I have never heard the waves so deafening. Later, when I neared the turnaround to leave, one deer was still in place, one crossed in front of me toward the brush.... Later, whilst doing the dishes, I remembered that I forgot to mention following the deer tracks in the sand from the shoreline back to my car, or the duck-ish webbed tracks swirling around them or the much lighter three pronged ones which braided with those--- nor did I mention the swallowish birds I watched dart above ....