I'm making a serious attempt to catch up on my blog today. Mostly because an artist friend, whom I love and respect, suggested that if I were going to have a blog I needed to post in it. Yes, right! So I'm rescuing my blog from its dormant phase. I had thoughts of starting a new blog, but since that's not happening, I'm plodding along with this one.
This week was a mix of sun and a stretch of dreary weather. Occasionally I capture some fantastic photos on those bleak gray days. Here are a couple from this week.

Mist on the Delaware River - in-between the rain showers

Smoky mist on the Pepacton Reservoir - surreal

A trip to my favorite place, Block Island, mid-October. Quiet time of year with most stores/restaurants/hotels closed down after a busy season.
I've been going to Block Island for years, but never tire of its beauty. It's usually just me, my bike, and my camera. And the sea with the salt air, the bluffs, the endless stretch of beach. It's all I need.
A challenge to photograph this small island again and again, but I always  seem to find something different. My happy place.

Solitude

The bluffs

sea crest

offshore wind farm - only one in the country, now up and running on the Block!

I have a thing for these beach fences.

I wrote this piece the end of October. Finally posting...

I rarely discuss anything deeply personal on my blog. Sometimes there must be exceptions. My mother, whom I loved with every ounce of my being, died on October 16th. I flew down to her home in Florida a couple weeks ago to say my final good-bye. Hardest thing I've ever done. She took my hand,  seemed to know she was leaving soon. Her last words to me were, "I guess this is our final good-bye." Although dementia had taken over, she said my name and yes, she knew me, if only for a moment. I broke down when I left the room. The finality was overwhelming. Loving her so much and knowing she was leaving forever was too much for my heart.
I wanted to stay with my mom in FL, but no one knew how long she'd hang on.  She had 'almost' left us a few times and then rallied. Her doctor said she'd probably live anywhere from a week to a month. She died less than two weeks after I left.
I went back to work after a week in Florida. My work is with small children as a therapist and they also need me. Tough call.
My mom was once my my best friend. When I knew her death was imminent, I went to Block Island in search of peace. It is a place I've visited countless times over the years. I would've called my mom when I arrived on the island as always I did in the past. She often seemed to live vicariously through my little adventures.
My mom loved the sea and gave me the gift of knowing and loving the ocean. Every year she took our family to a beach in Virginia for a vacation. I have memories of a lovely cottage surrounded by sand and endless hours swimming/playing in the sea. Wonderfully happy times. I remember being in the ocean with my mom. She would carry me in her arms when I was a small child way out beyond the breakers. No fear for her and she instilled that in me. I still often swim out beyond big waves with reckless abandon.
Like the sea, there is an ebb and flow to my grief. At times it comes crashing over me and I feel as if I'm drowning. I'm brought to my knees. Then there are times where it's a gentle flow and I know I'm going to be alright. I sense my mom is still with me, in a better place.
Today's blog is for my mom. I will miss her always.

“I thought of you and how you love this beauty,
And walking up the long beach all alone
I heard the waves breaking in measured thunder
As you and I once heard their monotone.
...

Around me were the echoing dunes, beyond me
The cold and sparkling silver of the sea --
We two will pass through death and ages lengthen
Before you hear that sound again with me.”
― Sara Teasdale

Block Island