Some spaces stand upon a threshold that is neither here nor there. It’s the in-between, where the magic happens. You gotta be alert though. Tuned in, sort of speak. Your senses have to be heightened, for it facilitates the process and furthers the enjoyment of the object under observation.
The shore is one such liminal place. Here, the ocean waves lap, coming and going from the horizon, which is eternal in the elusive now. Detritus, beads, flowers, wrecked boats, the remnants of dead creatures, a severed foot or two- you just never know what treasures wash ashore in the Summer.
Nature will always steal the show in a liminal space. Just when you think you got it figured out. You found the perfect spot. Stable. Serene. Then just out of nowhere, the fabric of the universe stretches a little, flows a bit faster as a flock of geese flies across the shore, right before you. Honk honk to you, Mr. Canada Goose! A great bellow right out of your belly for nature now reveals a timeless moment. A gratuitous grace. Here now. Then gone.
Snap snap snap! Quick! Not time to waste! They won’t stop and pose for you, so you gotta do it on the fly. In a manner of speaking. Engage the mechanical mind. Capture some of that magic before it disappears. You will lose most of it, but something of that moment will remain in the records of human experience.
A swirling feather
Gliding in a downward path
To the rising tide
All images by @litguru