Cafe Hitch-hike

2022-12-12

Vastness and chances

I seized the day when I saw the mist hang in the early morning air and got dressed in case the sun evaporated it. Mornings like this are a serious shot of relief after 6 months of living in weather akin to dwelling in a kiln and steambath. I have years of memories of going out on the first misty morning of an autumn or winter, and enjoying a deep, collective sigh of relief. Everyone is in a better mood, and people seem more gentle when it cools off here.

The mist was refreshing on my skin. There was something mesmerizing about it. This was the closest I could get to walking in a cloud. I wasn't nervous about the fog because I could see just enough in front of me. I walked to a bird sanctuary where we have many from North and South America that are wintering here. I strolled on a boardwalk over shallow wetlands that I enjoyed along with others.

I then walked across an elderly man with a camera and a serious lens. He pointed out a birdhouse that some bees decided to use as their hive. I was glad to hear that, these pollinators need more habitats and we need many more pollinators.

I continued my walk, then the elderly man caught up with me. I was watching a flock of nesting blue herons, and as it turned out, the man knew a lot about them. He gave me an interpretive presentation of their nesting and mating habits. I knew that birds of the wetlands were highly adaptable, but I didn't know they were also logistically clever and good engineers when it came to their nests! I didn't know they liked damp wood so they could bend it to make their nests certain shapes.

Meir, the photographer, invited me to go to another bird sanctuary nearby, and I thought, 'why not?' I didn't think get a weird vibe at all, and everyone at the bird sanctuary knew him and talked to him. He was a regular and knew a lot about the birds and their behavior.

As we drove to the other sanctuary, Meir said he was undecided earlier in the morning about going to the park where we met. He said he decided to go to one park if the next traffic light was red, or to another (the one where we met) if it was green. The light was green and he decided to go to the one where we met. I had to smile.

It took me back to Friday night when I sat on the beach next to where my companion laid. He asked me about a star above us and another behind us (it was Jupiter). He then said, "it's a one-in-billion chance that you and I would be here at this very place and at this moment. Of all the possibilities that exist, this is the one that happened." He texted me the next morning with his thanks, and, "it really makes you think about the universe and how vast it is!" I had to smile to have 2 people mention something about vastness and chances (or, maybe that's a most-clever pick-up line).

My beach companion also said he had sand in his house from Friday night. I told him I had the same. It all made me think about the Omnia possibilia sunt quote that I stuck on my bathroom mirror and refrigerator dry-erase board this past week.

I returned home a couple of hours later from my walk, and I felt refreshed from everything: the walk, the mist, the birds, and the knowledgeable Meir. I later went to sleep and had one the most restful sleeps I had in a while. My body even felt refreshed, everything felt refreshed.

downwind | upstream