Monday, May 23, 2011

Our Species & the Scent of Figs

Monday morning. The beach is overwhelmed by trash, mostly plastic. Weekend, beach-party trashers were here. I did not photograph the litter. If I had I would have had to look at it more closely. Instead I looked east and walked on, but for a moment I thought: This place needs a swarm of eco-prophets to patrol the beach. Never mind, 'Beware the end of days,' rather, 'Beware drowning everything in trash.' Mind almost rinsed clear, I watched a huge tractor plow under seaweed and garbage. Near South Point the tractor stopped. Coming abreast of the tractor I made the mistake of looking at the driver in his high seat. His bulk filled the cab. He was enormously fat. "It's almost over," I said to myself, "our species and this planet." The thought made me smile.

At South Point Park there were more birds than people, the human figure small in relation to water and sky--the right proportion.

Without planning my route I headed home and found myself in front of a clump of fig trees I had found weeks ago. There hasn't been much rain. The figs are unripe still, yet the broken fig gave off a subtle perfume--depth without musk, new green, and pale yellow honey. Untended, the fig trees still flourish.


  1. Hence, there might be hope in planting a tree tonight, even though the world might end tomorrow.
    Strangly moving entry of yours ! Thank you. A bit of 'trash' on me site tomorrow, hopefully turning into a bit of life.
    Those beaches over here which are free of entry reflect the situation you wrote about, the others are a bit expensive for a whole family.

    daily athens

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  3. Figs, now you're talking. Love them, same with dates and apricots. A bit sticky, though. :-)

    Greetings from London.

  4. Thanks for a lighter point of view, Robert and Cuban.

    KNB--I'm car-less. What did you like about the photos?

  5. Oh Mim, you are all grace.
    (I couldn't resist taking a peek at 'driveology'; none of their cars have your name on them. . .)
    It is always a treat to make these walks with you - as for the scent of figs (and all else about them). . . yes!
    L, C x

  6. Hello, Claire--sorry to have missed seeing you in Boston!
    Next time . . .

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