Dancing With Sand Dunes
Hidden life, hidden dreams
Every year we disappear to the “Big Water” for a week. This consists of camping near “the longest sand beach in the world,” as boldly declared on the Bolstad entrance sign in Long Beach, WA.
A sand beach is as foreign as the moon for this northwest girl of cobble beaches and rainy days. In many ways, it often feels as barren as the moon, as well.
My native cobble beaches are always alive and breathing. If you hold still for just a moment, you quickly realize you are the only unmoving thing on the beach. Shore crabs are constantly scurrying for cover or fighting over imagined slights. Pebbles are shifting as denizens beneath move about. And the waves change the configuration of everything every few hours.
Small hermit crabs scuttle by as rockfish dart around in the miniature tide pools caught between the stones. Anemones and urchins huddle under the curve of a boulder as the tide goes out, while giant ochre sea stars cling tightly nearby. Even the barnacles are constantly opening and closing their little mouths in an underwater ballet.
The dunes of the Pacific feel dead compared to the desperate alive-ness of the Salish sea.
Feelings can be deceiving.
The birds are forever present. Sandpipers daring to dodge the waves, taking wing only at the very last moment before they are swept away. Gulls fighting over crabs washed up from the deep or feasting gluttonously on the jellyfish swept ashore on a rising tide.
Oh, and the storks! I spent hours one evening watching storks plummet head first into the angry waves pushed in from an off-shore storm. I feared they were lost, until they would bob to the surface to peacefully float on the waves with their fresh-caught dinner.
The dunes themselves support a quiet life. Not the busy scurrying of my cobble beaches, true, but life nonetheless.
Sand verbena and sea rockets do their damndest to anchor the dune sands in place so that small communities of beetles and flies can form. As dusk settles, a million millipedes crawl out from the sand to busily digest what detritus they can find upon the wind-swept dunes.
In the morning, more signs of life surface. I must lay on my belly and recreate the party I missed the night before. These skipping steps are too large for crow, so they must belong to raven. Oh my, the entire mouse family was out and holding a dance party on this side of the dune – it must have lasted into the wee hours judging from the number of tiny prints!
Even mama raccoon, and what appears to be three little ones, decided to come down for a fish dinner at low tide. And is that what I think it is? Oh yes! Bear was here, too, after what was apparently a large feast of evergreen huckleberries, judging by the spoor left behind.
I was blind when I arrived, but now I can see. The dunes may seem like a desert compared to my lush cobbles, but they are full of life and stories that connect me to another shore.
Wee Tracking in the Mini-Dunes
We in western modern societies have elevated the tracker’s art to something more akin to magic than skill. We do this to our own detriment.
Recognizing the tracks of a wild friend is delightful, made even more so if we can piece together their adventure from the signs we see on the ground.
I am far from being an expert, but I am also not a complete novice when it comes to spying tracks. An eye to the ground and a bit of patience is all it takes. Of course, the right type of ground makes the process easier, and the sand dunes provide plenty of the right type of ground.
You can create your own mini-sand dune for tracking in any open space. You just need a bit of sand, perhaps from a sandbox or an abandoned sandbag. Fine soil, that’s dry and not lumpy, also works well in a pinch.
Spread it out and level it. Choose an area that the little creatures of the night will enjoy, such as near a hedgerow of tasty plants or by the compost pile. If you are worried you will have few visitors, spread some edible seeds around to provide an open buffet.
In the morning, after the dew has dried, visit your little mini-dune. Lay on your belly and look for wee tracks. You may notice the small divots left behind by a beetle, or the oh-so-adorable paw prints of a little mouse.
If you sweep your dune smooth each day, you can return again and again. You may find that the diversity of your visitors changes and evolves with the seasons, or even with the phases of the moon.
Daybook
Weather~
Passing storms of gentle rains, interspersed with sunshine. I haven’t watered the garden in a week, and may not need to water again until next summer.
Moments of Joy~
I received a monetary tip for my writing, simply because it touched someone, and one of my essays, Cedar Sentinels and Parking Lot Princes, was boosted over on Medium. Lovely ego strokes, I admit!
Sticky Wickets~
It was a smooth week, but I am a bit nervous about upcoming travel, especially leaving our senior cat alone. My elder son will be watching the cats, but I still worry.
On the Homefront~
It was a relaxing yet boring week.
Lots of garden veg — kale, cabbages, green beans, tomatoes, and more!
I made luggage tags for our suitcases using fabric I had on hand.
Lazy evenings at home on the patio, sometimes with a beer, sometimes with peppermint tea.
We ate down the fridge prior to our trip:
Tomato-ricotta pie and corn on the cob.
Tacos and cucumber-tomato salad
Burgers and fries
A simple veggie stirfry over rice
Homemade pizza (stuffed crust, even!)and cucumber salad
Fried rice
Chicken paprikash, served over rice
The human spirit needs place where nature has not been rearranged by the hands of man.
- Unknown
Fondly yours in love, peace, and gratitude,
Jenny Wren