Belize’s beautiful bookends: Sunset, and then, sunrise.
The calm is with us, the uncharacteristic coolness adds depth to our shadows.
The soft breezes from the north and west carry fresh artisanal air — richly scrubbed by mainland jungle and infused with savanna magic and minerals from salty bay waters.
Breathe in with your lungs and eyes, simultaneously.
The moment feels like one you can live inside forever.
But it is only a moment, a brief story arc dependent wholly on the sun breaking the horizon.
Dusk and Dawn are two characters in a tropical romance novel, only they are real and now and ours to embrace.
Every night, every morning, it is a short story written anew.
Not to be missed, toes dug deep in the sand.
Last night at dusk, Rose and I sat on the edge of our dock with glasses of wine and watched these guys deliver a load of lumber to a neighbor who is rebuilding his pier and restaurant.
The sailboat brought in the lumber and off-loaded it to the skiff, which was then poled into shore across the shallows. Man, that was hard labor.
The water was uncommonly still, as was the air. Even the constant murmur of waves tumbling over the barrier reef was muted.
Meanwhile, pelicans were diving into the water around us, like kamikaze bombers in pursuit of the sardines so thick that, for a brief moment, the sea looked like it was coming to a boil.
These birds are the most graceless hunters I have ever seen.
It is a barely controlled plunge which almost sends them ass over teakettle, were it not for their wings breaking momentum on the water surface. Sometimes they come up with a fish, more often they do not.
Just thought I’d share some of the life on the end of the pier.