Hard to Leave

It’s like pulling teeth .. the yanking me from the shores of the Sea of Cortez as business calls me back to the States.
Leaving the seabirds, the undersea life, the winds and the small waves … my friends. Biz is biz .. but each trip I learn more of what is truly important to me. Exquisite lessons …… life as a work in progress.

El Rey del Taco

El Rey del Taco

El Rey del Taco – The King of Tacos .. for sure!  I can eat “El Rey’s” fish tacos day after day and never grow tired of them.  Fresh, succulent pieces of – currently yellowtail – four different sauces, a fat tin foil rapper of salad mixings …

Of course, the to-go means I can savor his food sitting next to the water, watching the shenanigans of the sea birds.  Life is good here, south of the border.

seaside feeders

Egret Conference : Sea of Cortez

Stately centuries in the morning light, the egrets – white and fluffy – bounce from fishing ground to fishing ground searching crustaceans and tiny morsels.  They mingle with the gulls, terns, grebes, herons, cormorants and pelicans in a noisy cacophony that breaks the otherwise silent air.  These quiet mornings, when the Sea of Cortez is mirror like, and stillness slides into a zen-like presence, nourish everything in me that begs for peace.

Morning Notes

Skies blue, sun rising and the temperatures again warm.  My turns to shorts and t-shirts.  Second cup of coffee.

Buster sits on the beach with Shorty and Diego howling at the pelicans that float just beyond an easy reach.

The birds twitter bouncing tree to tree.  It feels like springtime, but it’s only the 4th day of February.

Dinner last night at 1697, Norma and Kirnin’s wonderful restaurant on the plaza.  We drank red wine with Alexander Ogilvie, our friend and owner of Loreto Realty.  Pizza and pasta.  Warm tables close together against the evening chill.  Dee Wise comes in for dinner.  I haven’t had the chance to spend any time with her.

Why am I never here long enough?

New Beach Dog – Gus

Marci & Cynthia with Gus

“Gus” was inadvertantly tossed from the back of a pickup truck and simultaneously freed from the oil drum he’d been jammed inside – a trip to the dump and the end of a dog.  Rolling past Bill, Marci’s husband, was all it took for Gus to find a new home.  They had lost their dog a couple of years back, and Gus – like most dogs – found them.  Luckily, Gus’s sister, who showed up on my walk with Buster the next day and followed us back to Cynthia’s house, found her own home.  The luck of the dog, I guess.