As I meditated this morning with my Thursday morning small group, them on Zoom and me quietly in my little camper, (because I don’t have enough internet), I hear the seagulls calling, breakfasting out on the beach near me. The chestnut backed chickadee was speaking to me from the tree while the towhees scratched around in the bush below. The ravens were quiet this morning, though yesterday and the day before they were having very loud conversations in the trees. The trees here are so tall, old pines and cedars. I have been camped out near the meadow these past evenings, but tonight, I will be able to stay in the darker forest for the night. 

Now, as I sit here at the picnic bench on the beach – my morning walk – the drum of the Papermill to my left continues on, while the seagulls are calling out somewhere across the bay. The other sound that captures me every night are the Air Force pilots from the Whidbey base practicing with whatever air power they are using at this time. It only lasts about an hour, maybe two. Each night it’s not too bad, more like a low rumble. But the night Poland scrambled their jets, it sounded like a 100 or more jets were leaving the airbase, one after the other. And it was loud. I even asked Keith to see what was happening in the world because it was so striking and a little scary. Eventually, they stopped. Then night sounds and stillness of the trees returned.

In the day, Allma and I go to lunch or coffee, talk, do errands. It’s good to re-connect.  Port Townsend has a plethora of good coffee and food places. 

In the afternoon, I settled in at my new spot in the forested area of the campground. It’s even flat! No words needed…