deleted

now you see it, then you don't. I take the treasure you have given me and I run away with it; no-one else will see it, no-one else will benefit from it; hands off, it's all mine, I've staked my claim, now clear off. Looks like the owner of precious has just visited us and vanished POOF in a puff of smoke. Whoever answered Atlandsend, I thank you on behalf of everyone else on this forum for your time, patience and caring.

Haven't been on the Forum since Friday, looks like I missed some action!

Is this member someone I need to delete? I am just getting to the forum now after about 24 hours.

Got no idea, I must have drifted off when you ladies appeared, just been sitting waiting here at land’s end with the waves crashing behind me and the flat, yellow land stretching around me far out to the horizon where a faint blue haze promises mountains. I suspect I heard a coyote howl sometime during my wait, but no sign of Atlansend. I think it was me who answered her and so there I was indignant on someone’s else’s behalf and thanking myself. Been doing an extra shift elsewhere so have forgotten what was here, along with everyone else it would appear except you two ladies who had not seen it in the first place. So I guess in that way nothing much has been lost, except for Atlandsend herself. Looks like she’s totally decamped never to return. I’ll wait a little longer and put the billy on and brew up some tea and then if she is hiding in some thickets over there she might be enticed to reappear but otherwise if nothing happens I think I’ll wander across onto some other trail and bother someone else; somewhere where they have some whiskey.

Just had an interesting conversation with a young seagull. Make that an attempted conversation with a young seagull. The tide is going out now and out of nowhere, because with the land so flat here and the waves low you can see for quite a way, a small flock of seagulls wheeled towards me in a wide arc and came to land just a few yards away. They were dipping their beaks into the shallow rock pools, except one young-looking one, you know the sort with soft fresh moist feathers still, approached me in the way that they sometimes do with ballooned neck and wide open beak and ungodly squawk. I could just hear my irascible grandfather whispering in my ear “Watch it, she’s one of those good doers coming at you; probably wondering what you are hanging around doing nothing, waiting for mischief.”
I couldn’t make head nor tail of what she was saying, and when I begged her to speak English for I knew no seagullese, she swallowed that billowed neck and rested her feathers and went over to her companions. There she stood zen like on one leg staring directly at one of kin; an older bird, could have been her mum. Anyway, they stood like that for some minutes, not a flinch of muscle, not a word. Seemed they were doing some type of mentalist act. I started to get a bit bored when another of their clan suddenly keeled over right there and then something like a dead duck act. With that the whole flock took flight including the dead duck one. They disappeared kind of sudden over the horizon. Left me on my own again. Still no sign of Atlandsend.

Working like mad to get my school work done, but am thoroughly enjoying the vigil. :-)

We have seagulls on Lake Michigan, but they don't seem nearly as entertaining or thoughtful as the ones you describe of the Australian breed. I too have enjoyed reading your lonely vigil, but can't remember at all, although I know I did read it, what this original post was. Ahh well, carry on, my friend!

Just some little while back, the day was heating up and I took off my sandals and went paddling just along the frothy edge of sea where the sand runs like a whipped cream. I enjoy that squelch between my toes and the water fresh and clean. I came across a brown bottle lying on its side. I don’t know how long it had been on this deserted stretch, but it could quite probably have been washed ashore during the night. I captured it and shook it and although it seemed to be clear of water, there was something white inside. I tried the lid, but it resisted my efforts. I left it where it was and then on my way back from my frolic, I recaptured the bottle and sat down to examine it more thoroughly. Opening it still eluded me. It had been topped with metal which surprisingly had not rusted and then welded tight and sealed with a blackened wax. I placed it aside deciding it would be best to wait till I returned to civilisation before I opened it. Only chance of opening it here was to smash it against the rocks. That would seem a shame, as the bottle must have been out in the ocean some time, victim to the tide, as it had been rubbed and tumbled so that the bottle was an almost impenetrable, light sandstone rock. So I put it into my bag and decided to forget about it. I focused away from the bottle. I would not think of the bottle and its contents. I drew hearts in the sand with a bit of driftwood and wrote my beloved’s name. I drew hopscotch and threw a shell to each placing and played right through without a thought to the bottle. I collected 37 sea shells of varying hues and counted them twice. And when I was finished I walked directly towards my bag, grabbed the bottle and in one movement smashed it down on the rocks. I pursued that piece of paper with an avid lust and hope. I found inside a drawing of a beautiful young lady with posture just right and a little note from someone called Christine in Albuquerque. I looked towards the horizons again, and then out to sea, but still there was no-one there.

A warm wind is blowing down from the North West. Just in the last half hour or so it has picked up volume and speed and is blowing off-shore tossing the waves back to where they have come, creating a general haze of salty wind blown water and relieving the relentless heat of a full summer’s day from beating down on my scalp. Far off on the horizon there’s a grey shadow emerging from deep out of that haze and it seems at first stationary and then it is suddenly moving towards me. I’ve nowhere to run, no hills around here, no trees just stark yellow landscape and so I stand defiant of my anxiety, legs apart and hands on hips watching the boat speeding towards me. It’s a handsome motor boat with navy blue trim and canvas and so my anxiety starts to lessen. A smiling man regales me with full pearl teeth: “Fruits of the Sea for you Missus”, and he hands me a platter full of just that. Stunned I take it from him and run to fetch my purse. When I turn back, he has rounded the boat and salutes me a wave. Just then three children appear on a sand track behind me, I’d not noticed. One has a whistle and one has a drum and the last a ukulele. They march past me and then I sight a giant Yellow Duck entering the harbour and over on my left a bus pulls up and dislodges a stream of hawaiian shirted people. Christine and graceful and surviving, Come on down it’s party time. I’ve lobster and oysters and fish and coconut and sea cucumber and seaweed (five different types) and you guessed it someone just shoved a bottle of Irish whiskey under my arm.

Pulling up anchors and setting sail...should land ashore about mid-April. Ahoy!!!

.......Albuquerque in August, wouldn't it be sweet.....

Lol!! This all sounds so lovely!!