Polkadots and Moonbeams – Part I
Sashaying down the contortion of stairs, the setting sun warmed her freckles just in the same the gusty northerly flared about her shoulders.
The view, from atop the Mornington Peninsula sandy cliff basking over the massive blue sprawl of Bass Strait as she alighted the first prominent steps, pronounced the beginning in the way xylophonic bass notes ambiently drone with the soft yet pointed strikes of the muted woollen wrapped head of the mallet.
Each precious and precise step forward begun with the graciously pointed red lacquered toenails, pressing and planting into the feathered and worn wooden treads. An occasional creak emanates in obtuse reckoning with the soft rolling waves gently and idling in want of greeting her.
Here, festooned in the fading ambience of the late fresh Spring afternoon, above her the rising half crescent moon in the baby blue sky beamed down silver pleasures that if she turned and looked back up into it, would mirror her own glinted beckoning eyes.
The white thinly stretched clouds strewn about whisked in, as the light wisps of her golden hair tantalised about her neck, playing with her skin in between the feathers of tickling wind that urged her descent further toward the small sandy bed of the rocky textured cove that awaited open-armed below and in front of her.
Moving freely, she sensed something different about herself, a subtle yet welcome urge gently seeping within. Fingertips lightly brushed the years-smoothened timber railing that brought her forward and down, like her palm was met with another, guiding her as if she might be blindfolded and excitedly anticipating what tender surprise might be revealed.
Glancing across the barely rippled surface of the sea, in tune with the rhythm of the waves that barely ruffled the shoreline, heartbeats danced with a spirit being invited to unburden.
Each footstep now telling her to forget, and be here now, present in the prettiness. Soles of feet turning on the sand covering almost all of the platform of stairs as if confetti settled there following thousands of intimate celebrations.
Cooler now that the sun wanted to descend behind the rolling thickets of tightly woven rich green coastal scrub up above her eyeline. Indistinct chirps and calls invited themselves into the scene, the tiny wrens and robins chattering and darting about, feeding and frolicking amongst the trees.
Purchase In-house Designed
Polkadots & Moonbeams Tote Bag
With a skip down the last, playfully her feet found the deep soft sand and nestled into the shadows.
Pausing, it was a moment of balance. Gazing over the beach, the pastel green, pink and purple hues warmed her in a way that until now she didn’t know she’d been missing.
Lungs filled with awe and joy. Eyelids ever so slowly closed and gently opened, eyelashes barely able to contain the rapture of those azure blue eyes.
The seclusion was like a new embrace. The familiar unfamiliar, or unfamiliar familiar. It comforted the often swirling discomfort and overwhelm of what she termed in her daily diary of life’s uncertain certain tensions and anxieties. The push and pull of doubts, desires. And dreams.
Tiptoeing in light leaps across the rocks, the days of past youth unbound and untied.
The luscious gentle exfoliating clean granules of sand massaged her feet in each wonderful step into this life she wanted to know much much better.
Chest effortlessly rising and falling, it wasn’t even that her worries seemed to drop away. Or that ordinary life had been shut out by the mesmerising theatre of rich colour and graceful movement. The senses were smelling and tasting this magnetic nature too.
Beside her and not yet having caught her eye, a Ladybug dottered the coarse misshapen naturally contoured rock jutting up proudly through the sand. There it moved unhurriedly about, not more than 5 metres from the fans of clear water cleansing the sand in ever more grand half ellipses as the moon drew in the tide subtly higher and higher.
– Found on the Mornington Peninsula –
After each sweep the sand would voice back quietly, filtered by the fresh cool liquid of the sea.
Lightly it would deposit more and more gifts and offerings as keepsakes, the buoyant jewels creating their own arcs and traces of Neptune’s shiny pearls and golden kelp ribbons that dazzled longer by their wetted layer.
The Ladybug meandered in search of a cupping crevice in which to slink deeply into and rest its weary wings. An occasional full outward stretch and re-settling tuck-and-under soothing the turns of the day.
Looking up, the Ladybug observed this young woman, remaining still and sturdy like a proud tree, yet supple like the fronds of seaweed limberly casting themselves in repose and surrender along the beach.
If the sun was high enough, it would be glowing upon her, lighting up her features and obvious fondness, showcasing this place, and her place upon it. It wasn’t needed though. The Ladybug stopped and became still, so taken was she by whatever glow seemed to be emitted from this serene bystander.
Intrigued, she wanted to immediately fly over and rest upon the easy shoulder of this late afternoon visitor. She wanted to see through her own eyes all that this beauty appeared entranced by.
Fatigued by the days travails her wings resisted taking her there, and she remained in her rocky temporary emplacement. Moments passed and she gazed on, and the woman gazed on, and despite their distant separation, the Ladybug felt unity, as if separately together, they both became embalmed in a glow and connectedness that the darkening shadows held not a chance of suppression victorious.
Taking her towel from the light sandy coloured calico bag, she draped it over the coarse rock beside her and let it rest along with her bag.
Skin already tingling, the anticipation of cold salty blue water caressing and intoxicating her body would have ordinarily caused her to shudder, but she was feeling stronger these days, less in control, more at ease whether weathering storms or lolling in laughter. A passion she didn’t know well enough yet, but one she already knew had been ignited and one that she would cultivate, if only it was so clear what it was that she could take the action to do it. It was a mystery that that she felt as if it already been unveiled, like a magicians trick of which the method easily rendered, but the result remained a surprise such was the thin veil that hid the reveal.
Unbuttoning her dress, her shoulders were freed as it slipped to the sand with the poise and finesse a feather finds its place drifting in carefree abandon to the Earth.
To be continued…
Underwater immersions.
Take a swim under the Mornington Peninsula azure and emerald waters.
Watch
Shop
Support this site
0 Comments