The crookedshore and its environs are the paths I walk when the dog, Tobey, is eager for some exercise, or the kids need to run or I just need to get away. The seasons are marked along the changing paths, the tides and weather are in rhythm, there are familiar people and their dogs and I find myself noticing things without straining for them.
It doesn’t happen each occasion but sometimes things stick and I make a mental note. Writing about these events or encounters is my way of processing them. It is part of my own discipline of learning to pay attention to the world around me. More rarely, I even find that something written reveals itself as a blessing to someone else, a wee reminder that there is grace in the world even yet.
I thought I would gather them together in one place, just in case I find myself repeating, though given the diversity along that small stretch of coastline, it’s not likely.