Not plumming at Sandy Hook

“Wild, wild the storm, and the sea high running,
Steady the roar of the gale, with incessant undertone muttering,
Shouts of demoniac laughter fitfully piercing and pealing,
Waves, air, midnight, their savagest trinity lashing,
Out in the shadows there milk-white combs careering,
On beachy slush and sand spirts of snow fierce slanting,
Where through the murk the easterly death-wind breasting,
Through cutting swirl and spray watchful and firm advancing,
(That in the distance! is that a wreck? is the red signal flaring?)
Slush and sand of the beach tireless till daylight wending,
Steadily, slowly, through hoarse roar never remitting,
Along the midnight edge by those milk-white combs careering,
A group of dim, weird forms, struggling, the night confronting,
That savage trinity warily watching.”

— Walt Whitman, Patroling Barnegat

My plan for this afternoon was to go out to Sandy Hook for a beach plum walk, but the weather didn’t cooperate. I still went and the NPS ranger was kind enough to give her speech about making beach plum jelly to just me (wonder why no one else showed up? lol!), but the planned walk to pick plums was cancelled due to the weather. We met at the Visitor’s Center which was a U.S. Life-Saving Station that rescued shipwreck victims during the 19th century.

The ocean and marsh were still beautiful, but not walk-friendly despite my rain gear. I wasn’t the only nut out there – living close to the ocean makes it hard to resist going to see it all churned up with a storm. The saltmarsh at Plum Island was flooded and the only birds I saw was one wheeling group of shorebirds and a few Greater Black-Backed Gulls hunched down on a bit of high ground well out in the marsh.

The remnants of Ernesto are supposed to clear out overnight and I’m hopeful that tomorrow I’ll be able to pick some beach plums and try out the recipe the park ranger shared with me today.

Does it improve upon the silence?

Can I rant a little about work? This will likely end up to be mean-spirited, so be warned.

I’m generally a well-behaved person; not prone to complaining too much, but this has been bottled up most of the week and Deb, my best friend at work, is on vacation. I’ve been stewing without her ear to bend. I’ll use you guys as my sounding-board instead.

By the way, do you know Happy Bunny? I have a little collection spread around my cubicle at work. Deb thinks this is subversive on my part, but at least in my passive-aggressive way I’m letting my feelings be known to many of the people I work with. Most of them drive me nuts.

95% of the people I work with are women; that’s the first problem. Second of all, the vast majority of them seem to forever be going through menopause so my workplace is awash in unhappy hormones. Third of all, and worst; they all talk too damn much!

Another great quote I’ve recently added to my collection is this:

“Before you speak, ask yourself: is it kind, is it true, is it necessary, does it improve upon the silence?” – Shirdi Sai Baba

I’m going against that mantra now, but I’m fed up. I need quiet to work, to be productive. I come to work to work, not to socialize or as a replacement for a therapy session. Why is it any different for the people I work with? Deb and I go out to lunch or into her office with the door closed when we need to talk about personal things. Never mind that I don’t want the whole office to hear my personal business, but I respect them enough not to subject them to it! Why can’t others be as courteous?

Do I need to hear every detail of your most recent phone coversation with your out-of-state daughter, repeated ad infinitum for every one of your twelve friends who stop by your cubicle throughout the day? Can’t you at least change the story a little bit, for my benefit; your captive audience in the adjoining cubicle? Must I overhear every demeaning conversation you have with your husband? Do I need to know exactly and every single thing you plan to do this weekend? Do I need to listen to you alternate between cursing and crying every single day? Isn’t there some medicine you could take for that?

Some day, if I prove myself incompetent enough (I work for the government, after all) I might get promoted and have an office of my own, instead of a cubicle amidst this sea of moody women. Then I’ll be able to close the door on it all. Instead I’m forced to listen to this drather, day in and day out.

End of rant. Pretty pics and gentle-mannered nature observations to resume tomorrow. 😉

Trees in miniature – Deep Cut Gardens

Delicate branches

Roots caress a simple pot

White blossoms shimmer

The essence of all forests

Lives here in one small tree.

-Mastuyama Mokurai






The art of bonsai is meant to suggest a tree which has grown naturally under specific conditions, for example windswept on a rocky shore, clinging to the side of a cliff, or standing undisturbed in the forest. The time and patience needed to train a tree in miniature form to look natural and mature is, perhaps, the foremost challenge of this horticultural practice.

A gardener studying bonsai is encouraged to study nature and get out and look at trees. Get under them and look up. Notice them. Get to know them so that you might create a representation of all of nature in one small tree.

Pics taken in the Japanese Garden at Deep Cut Gardens in Middletown, NJ. Other posts about Deep Cut are available here and here.

Post submitted to The Festival of the Trees.