Prompt: Uncorked
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If I scramble the letters in the word "uncorked," I come up with "rock nude," which brings to mind skinny dipping in Lake Hickory as a teen. We dipped at night. I really don't like skinny dipping. I'm not much of a water person.
But ooh if I had gills...
But ooh if I had gills...
As a little girl in the bathtub, I'd swoosh my washcloth around under the water, like it was a friendly eel. I pretended I was a mermaid, in the bathtub and in the swimming pool. I didn't like diving into the water, but I loved swimming under the water. It was quiet, mysterious. I'd think, If only I had gills.
How fascinating it would be to have 'gills' again, like when I was in my saline womb-room before being born, uncorked into the oxygen-laden air. With gills I'd be able to swim as long as I desire in the depths of the sea, able to breathe, able to see with my rod-adjusted eyes all the mysterious life forms.
How fascinating it would be to have 'gills' again, like when I was in my saline womb-room before being born, uncorked into the oxygen-laden air. With gills I'd be able to swim as long as I desire in the depths of the sea, able to breathe, able to see with my rod-adjusted eyes all the mysterious life forms.
Ahh...life forms. I recently read about viruses and how life on earth could not exist without them. Viruses are abundant in the ocean and gobble up toxic bacteria so plankton can do their thing helping to provide up to half or more of the oxygen us land animals breathe. Humans have identified over a thousand viruses, but there are probably millions-billions, most of them nonpathogenic to mammals. Symbiosis.
If I scramble the letters in the word "uncorked," I come up with "dune rock," which brings to mind Hubby's and my annual trips to Florida. We always stay at the same place in Daytona Beach Shores, directly south of Daytona and about six miles from the end of the peninsula.
We ride our bikes directly from the building where we stay, down Peninsula Avenue or sometimes down other roads, through the quiet neighborhoods, through the little community of Wilbur-by-the-Sea, then through the little community of Ponce Inlet, then to the end of the peninsula at Ponce Inlet Park where stands Ponce De Leon Lighthouse within a historical village of rich history.
We ride our bikes on the boardwalks through the low dunes out to the wide beach.
We ride our bikes out the cement jetty-pier that extends into the ocean. At the end of the cement, jetty-rocks stretch out to the sea where the Halifax River meets the Atlantic.
We ride our bikes out the cement jetty-pier that extends into the ocean. At the end of the cement, jetty-rocks stretch out to the sea where the Halifax River meets the Atlantic.
The largest sand dunes I've visited are in North Carolina, on the coast, at Jockey's Ridge State Park. Giant dunes where hang gliders sail. Giant dunes that shift with the winds. The top sand is hot, but dig a little, and one's feet can feel the cool.
Yesterday I read that lots of viruses live in the sand in the oceans (more so in the shallower waters) and on the beaches. I wonder how many live in the dunes?
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| Halifax on the right... Atlantic on the left... |
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| From the jetty pier... Lighthouse and dunes... |
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Three different pieces about our symbiotic relationship with viruses (in the order that I read them):
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