The past week was not  usual , nor ordinary.  I did not line dry clothes or tend to the vines on the fence,  I did not paint a single bird or blossom. 

Instead, I was collecting shells by a very cold sea .  . .watching light dance upon the water, like sprites.   The ancient sea was too cold, for mere humans.

Every day of our gathering by the Atlantic was sunny, but one.  I love weather, and so a cloudy day did not hamper my disposition.  . .most especially, when you have a good book . . and a candy shop a few blocks away.  Several guests came, during our stay.  An old acquaintance , one of Jennys’ friends was there for a day.  What a lovely person she is.  She is a thinker and acts on her convictions.  What a rarity to see someone living their truth !  Besides that, she is funny and kept us entertained. 

A new friend,  to me,  came for a few days. He is an artist and straight away, I could see he had a ” heart of gold” and and was  kind and gentle in his ways, as anyone I had ever met. 

Then, there was Grandaddy Bill, Wills’ father.  He is an author with more than several books, to his credit.  I am a picky reader, and I will tell you, that Bill Thompson never disappoints me.  The little girls were thrilled to see him and that warmed my heart.  He told me, he wished he could see the girls more . . and I wish that too, for he is full of experiences and has lively stories, to tell  of them.  Their grand father sees authentic  beauty and recognizes it. Then, he writes about it-and makes his readers see it too. 

 Wills’ sister was there and she is a writer and can draw portraits.  We had several conversations that were tucked in my heart.  She is an encourager and so very generous with uplifting words. 

Her mother, Miss Claudia was the same and I remembered her with great fondness, most every day.  Even with all the chatter and busyness-I ached for the weeks that she was there, too. 

We spent a good deal of time with Brant, Sydney and Ryan-and Sydneys’ parents and brothers.  What a wonderful lot they are!  They are  welcoming and friendly.  I can scarce tell which children belong to whom, for everybody loves them and treats them , as such.  I am sure that the little girls see Scott and Seth as uncles.  Sydneys’ parents love Brant thoroughly-that means everything to me.  Besides all of that . . . there is never a dull moment, when you are in the midst of them. 

 Of course, and not least of all, was the ocean.  The sight of it is very humbling.  Who can feel mighty in its’ presence?  I realised just how small I was-and all of mankind-not insignificant, but more like a valuable particle of life.  We can “put on airs” (what a useless and utter waste of a life)  and exaggerate our “power”-or “control”  of all things, but in the presence of the vast and wild sea,  as in the presence of a mighty oak, or a whispering pine or a sparrows’ nest full of promises . . .well, we could be persuaded to reconsider, our stance.   In some sort of way, such things unite, all humans. 

 The evening we left, little Brynn, fell asleep before her supper and slept the whole way home.  Jenny laid her tenderly in her bed, once we arrived.  The next morning, Brynn awoke, looked around and asked “What happened?”   Her still, cherub like face, was frozen in astonishment-and confusion.   . .“Oh,  but,  a lot of lovely things happened . . while we were down and beside  the sea.”  I thought.