Salt Marsh Reflections

August 25, 2015 10:15 am

In August, a spontaneous trip to Maine found my son and me lodging at the edge of a lush salt marsh.  Grass and reeds had ripened to their late summer saffron color tipped with the grey-brown decay of fall.  High tide filled the curved channels that wound through the salt marsh reflecting heavy rain clouds. Fog hung within arm’s reach, smelling of salt, sea, and rich rotting vegetation.

Grateful to be alive, to exhale Atlantic Ocean air from the porch of a modest cabin, I lingered over coffee as my son slept. How many others reflected wonderous over the beauty of the world and our passing place in it. I imagined pilgrims hundreds of year ago on such a misty morning rejoicing for God’s creation of salt and color. Further back in time, indigenous peoples shared similar awe for their creator. Perhaps each piece of the scene had its own spirit. I would thank Mother Ocean and Father Grass.

And this coffee-sipping atheist? Gods are less miraculous than chance. I have no soul, or spirit; I am as ephemeral as a flower bursting forth in a quick spring. All I can do is appreciate, and perhaps write for the next reflective soul to find.

22 thoughts on “Salt Marsh Reflections

  1. Ugh, this, so much this. Starting to worry that I’ve developed something similar, although it presents much more like anxiety/phobia than depression. I’m ridiculously sensitive to heat and humidity, then I end up constantly overloaded and drained, then I start Avoiding The Thing At All Costs (I am the only person I know that will willingly cross minor roads if the shade’s on the other side :P), then I feel really pathetic and shit because it’s only June and I’m only in England and it’s Not That Bad and I’m over-reacting I shouldn’t have to psyche myself up to go to the Tesco down the road and it’s only going to get worse, then I feel guilty about it, then I realise I can’t “get out of it” and feel trapped and end up constantly worrying about how much fucking worse it’s going to get. (Okay, that was far too long a sentence…) I also find that I don’t sleep very well, which is sometimes just a matter of being too hot but a lot of the time is for seemingly no reason, apart from the fact that it coincidentally happens every time it gets warm, which really doesn’t help the whole lack-of-energy-and-capacity-for-further-sensory-input thing. Oh, and I panic almost equally at the very idea of *other people* being too warm, which is a bit weird. I’m not really bothered much by sunlight, though, other than that a.) it’s hot and b.) it LOOKS hot when I look out the window (which I can’t close because panic, although I’ve also got a weird-vaguely-related thing about suffocation so it’s probably that) so this is really interesting.

    Sorry for the long comment – it’s hot, I’m panicking and this post showed up!

    1. Dear Feminist Aspie,

      Please forgive my long absence, it has been a long and hard few months. <3 (Ill elderly parents)

      I completely relate to how you feel during the summer, the heat prickles some mental valve that makes existence insufferable. The worst part is the humidity, it's a soggy wet mental blanket that smothers all the good feelings you try to generate.

      I hope you are doing better now. I appreciate you visiting with me and reblogging my post. May your fall be long and cool. And you are welcome to comments as long as you please! I enjoy hearing from you! 🙂

      Lori D.

  2. Summer brings more. No chance of processing. I loved Alaska in the winter! Though I do suffer with eyes. I think my cones and rods are reversed as light is way too much and I have excellent night vision. My prescription glasses only allow 15 % of light in. ; )

  3. I hope the rest of your June passes quickly. When I lived in NM, I found June to be the worst month. Something about the intense dry heat before the monsoons came in July just wore me down. Back on the east coast, it’s March that does me in now, with it’s never ending damp cold. I dread it and spend the whole month wanting to hide in bed.

    1. Thank you for the validation!Sometimes I feel as if I am the only one who crashes during the summer months. I appreciate your comment and understanding. 🙂


    1. Dear friend,

      Thank you so much for the honor. I am recovering from my latest trip to NM and legal issues for my mom. She is doing much better. You brighten my life with your enthusiasm, cheer, and compassion. Thank you for thinking of me. <3

    1. Thank you so much for stopping by. My summer was long and complicated, but my fall has become cheerier knowing I am in good company!

      Enjoy the mild weather!
      Lori D.

  4. Thank you so much for this post! Did not know there was a name for it. SOD … Filed in long-term memory. For several years now I have to increase the dosage of my anti-anxiety meds in May, maybe June, to go down again in August. Another one of my quirks just fell into place 🙂

    1. I am so happy to hear this solved something for you. I’ve had many miserable summers and I feel so grateful to the scientists and doctors who listen to their clients and do research so we can all feel a little less alone! Thank you for visiting with me!

      Lori D.

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